Trident Boy: Finnick Odair
by stygian-apocalypse
Summary: At only 14 years of age, Finnick Odair is reaped to participate in the 65th Hunger Games along with his best friend. Not only does he have 23 other tributes to look out for, he has his own fears and the arena to be aware of. This is Finnick's story from his games to the end of the rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This will be my first story on this account here. This will be the first book of a series, which you do not need to read in order / all at once. There will be five books:  
**

**I. Trident Boy [Finnick Odair]  
II. Golden Beauty [Cashmere Delgado]  
III. Reaching Impossibility [Gloss Delgado]  
IV. Female Warrior [Johanna Mason]  
V. An Act Of Pretence [Annice Cresta] **

* * *

_**I have to go and leave you alone  
But always know, always know  
Always know that I love you so  
**_

_**\- Goodbye, Avril Lavigne **_

* * *

**I. The Reaping  
**

If life has taught me anything, it is that fate is inevitable and that everyone has a weak spot within themselves, whether it unleashes an unexpected swarm of tears or blinds the person with rage. This weak spot, however, attaches the victim to home, and from being raised in one of the middle class regions of District Four, I had grown up being taught that I was born a part of an extremely privileged family.

"You see those District 12 kids? Twigs, I tell you. They starve everyday," Father used to tell me. "And you? Look at all that fish we've hauled in. If you think for a second that you have a bad life, you are not my son."

And that's what I had always thought. Even today.

It's Reaping Day and I know my name will not be pulled out. When my little sister, Rhea, pulls my blankets out from underneath me, I can only groan in response.

"Come on, Finnick!" she exclaims, "Get up! It's Reaping Day!"

Today will be the first reaping she attends as a potential tribute, but I don't allow myself to think that her name will be drawn out. There is only one slip out of thousands that says _Rhea Odair. _The chance is almost impossible. It is only when she tells me what time it is that I hurry. I had woken up only ten minutes before the reaping. _Great. _I had slept in and if I was late, it would not be approved of. Rhea is already dressed in a flowing white dress, which reaches an inch or two past her knees and her bronze hair has been braided back in a sophisticated manner - it is undoubtedly Mother's handiwork.

There is already an outfit laid out for me - a light blue dress shirt with matching black pants and shoes that I think are called boots. I hastily strip and tug on the new outfit, ignoring the creases and folds that form at my touch. Rhea pushes me out of the house a mere two minutes after I brush my teeth and I run my hand through my tousled bronze hair.

This is probably the worst I have ever looked for a Reaping.

"I'm scared," Rhea says, after we have signed in. "What if I'm reaped?"

Her bottom lip quivers and her eyes are dilated with fear. I squeeze her hand gently, in hopes of comforting her and tell her, "Don't be, Rhea. There are thousands of other girls. You won't be chosen."

I don't know if I'm convincing her, or myself. In a place like District Four, we are never short of volunteers. The outside districts call the tributes from District One, Two and Four the Careers, otherwise known as the tributes who have trained illegally for the Games. Due to our considerable wealth, the Capitol favours these three districts, and the Peacekeepers are slack compared to those in areas like District Twelve. I heard that whippings are common there.

"Rhea!"

I look over Rhea's shoulder to find Annie Cresta, standing in a billowing green dress, which I assume is about two sizes too large for her. She waves at us and beckons my little sister over to the twelve year old section. I plant one kiss on her forehead and walk towards the fourteen year old male section.

Venala Thames takes the stage after the mayor's speech. _At least she looks better than last year, _I think to myself. This year, her hair is pin straight and is dyed blonde at the roots and gradually becomes a blue at the tips. Her eyes are green, I think, and her dress isn't as ridiculously puffy as it was last year. She looks decent, for once.

Without further ado, she has inserted her hand into the jar of slips for the girls. Venala fishes her hand around and pulls a slip out.

"Rhea Odair," she announces, her heavy Capitol accent rolling the _r _sound. My head snaps up almost immediately and I feel my neck crack. I, for once, am thankful for my height of five foot nine at the age of fourteen, as I tower over everyone else in my year group, and lock eyes with my sister. She lets out a heart-wrenching sob. It makes me want to scream at a trained girl to volunteer.

"I volunteer!" a familiar voice screams out from the fourteen year old females. A rush of blonde hair lunges forward and doesn't bother with the steps onto the stage. She jumps up and stares down at the crowd, more specifically, me. She gives me a slight nod and I know that nothing will change her mind.

"What's your name, darling?" the Capitolian woman asks, delightfully.

"Maya Cresta."

"Wonderful!" Venala claps her hands, animatedly and rushes to the boys' bowl. "Finnick Odair."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. My name hasn't been called out and I'm safe for yet another year. It is only when the boys in front of me have created a pathway for me, that I realise the Finnick Odair that has been called out is _me_. My legs seem to carry me to the stage at their own accord. I glance at myself on the big screen, plastering a fake smirk on, ignoring the wails emitting from Rhea and Mother. I want to cry.

I barely hear Venala speak as she asks for any volunteers, and Maya and I are forced to shake hands. The applause the district gives should be comforting, but it is just a reminder than I have involuntarily been sentenced to my death, with Maya.

"Give it up for your District Four tributes this year! May the odds ever be in your favour."

I know that the cameras would be cut off now, so I push past Venala and embrace Maya in my arms. Having my sister reaped, only to have my best friend volunteer in her spot and being reaped myself, the odds are definitely not in my favour. "I'm sorry," she murmurs softly.

A Peacekeeper grabs my shoulder and and tears me away from her, escorting me to the Justice Building, the most expensive and fashionable building in the District. The Peacekeeper doesn't spare me a second glance before I'm shoved into an empty white room, with the exception of one couch and he trudges out.

My family is the first group to rush in. Rhea crawls onto my lap and sits there, bawling her eyes out and babbling incomprehensible nonsense. Mother is pale and shaking, and I cannot help but be shocked when I see Father on the verge of tears as well.

"Finnick, you have to come back," Mother says, urgently. They all do.

My father steps forward and speaks in a such a serious tone, even I am intimidated. "Son, you've never trained professionally but remember everything I taught you - tridents and knives. Spears are the same as tridents, only lighter. Train well. Do _not _join the Careers."

I can barely take this all in at once but I simply nod. "Got it."

"I can't believe Rhea would've had to go in as well," Mother sniffs. "Thank the Lord, Maya volunteered but that's just as awful."

This is when I stop feeling numb. My grip around Rhea tightens and I can feel the waterworks forming. It isn't long before I'm crying too, just like Mother.

"Dont," Father scolds, "Don't ever let them see you cry."

The Peacekeeper barges in on us and roughly shoves them. "Time's up."

I don't expect anybody else to visit me for the duration of the next twenty-five minutes, but Annie Cresta runs in, dragging her oversized dress along with her. Her green eyes are wide and innocent, and her eyes are red and puffy.

I stare at her, shocked. "Hi?" I say in what I suppose is in the form of a question.

Despite being best friends with her older sister and her being close friends with my own sister, I have only spoken to her twice - both of which were extremely short and awkward conversations.

Annie cups her elbow and presses her lips together. She doesn't know what to say, and neither do I.

After a few moments of silence, she unties the string of rope around her wrist and gives it to me.

"My sister told me to give this to you." The way Annie speaks makes it seem like she's in a daze. Like she isn't wholly attached to reality. "She told me you like to make knots when you have something on your mind."

I tentatively take the rope from her and wrap it around my own wrist. "Thank you," I say, half-heartedly.

She looks up at me, tears threatening to pour, before she looks back down to her shoes, shyly. "Can you take care of her? I know you're her best friend…"

I nod without a word. I honestly don't know what to say.

"She's my sister," she whispers softly.

"I know," I respond. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring her back home."

This time, she looks up at me with hopeful eyes without breaking her gaze away from me. "Really? Do you mean that?"

"Of course. She'll come back to you, okay?" I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Rhea needs me; so do Mother and Father. But Annie needs Maya. I want to win, but if that is to happen, Maya will have to die, whether it is by my hands or another tribute's.

_No, Finnick. Don't think like that_, I scold myself.

Before I know it, Annie crashes into me, her arms around my waist. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she repeats.

"You're welcome."

Suddenly, she's torn away from me and I am dragged towards the train that is supposed to take me to the Capitol. "Take care of her for me! Please, Finnick!" Annie cries out. I close my eyes and ignore her, this time and board the train.

_Goodbye, District Four._


	2. Chapter 2

**II. **

It surprises me when I am told that Mags is supposed to be my mentor. She's a withered, old seventy year old lady, with greying hair and a wrinkled smile. Her eyes are kind and understanding but her speech is slightly garbled. I have to listen carefully to whatever she says. The other mentor is our latest victor, Shelly. At the age of seventeen, she won four years ago through her astonishing skills of manipulation. No one knows how exactly she was able to do what she did, but it has always been questioned. Being a reaped tribute, she was no ordinary Career. Her mind was her weapon.

Maya and I pick at our lunch. Despite the extravagance of the meals that we are offered, we simply do not have the appetite. Instead of the usual fish and seaweed we are served at home, we have chicken, asparagus and something which Shelly says is mashed potato.

Venala breathes out an exasperated sigh and gives an overdramatic eye roll. "Honestly, tributes these days are so rude. You have such luxury here. Look at this food! Eat it! What poor manners. "

Nobody reacts except for Shelly, who shoots her a glare. "What are you guys good at?" she questions.

"Uh… Fishing?" Maya replies, in a questioned form.

"Weapons wise," Mags mumbles. She grabs a few cubes of sugar from a small plate right by her and pops one in her mouth.

"I can net and use tridents and knives," I say, not in hopes of showing off, but in hopes of life-saving advice.

Maya glances at me and bites her bottom lip, softly. She has never trained; not as a Career and not how I have ever trained unprofessionally. "I… I don't know. I've never trained. I only volunteered because of Rhea."

Shelly raises a thin eyebrow at us and leans back as far as possible in her seat. "Ah, I see. We have a couple here."

Lemonade is suddenly sprayed all over my face as Venala spits her drink out. "A couple?!" she exclaims.

I merely ignore her and wipe the combination of saliva and lemonade off my face. "We're not a couple," I deny. "We're best friends."

"No difference," she waves off. "Since you guys both look untrained here, I'll give you a bit of advice as a non-Career, myself."

For the rest of the day, we either play games or she lectures us, with Mags on the side. I feel irritated that my mentor isn't doing anything for me, considering she has barely uttered a complete sentence for the duration of the day, but I know I can't blame her due to her age.

Maya and I learn about the different aspects of training the other Career districts go through from Shelly. With fourteen victors in total, both alive and dead, District One is yet another one of the favoured district of Panem. They are known for their astounding beauty and because of this aspect, the sexiest and the most handsome ones are trained to flirt well. Several of their victors have won by seducing their fellow tributes, usually from District Two. Despite their brashness and known brutality, they, apparently, are able to feel more than those from District Two.

District Two, on the other hand, are ruthless and harsh, no matter what happens. I'm not surprised though; most of those who don't participate in the Hunger Games, move on with their lives either training or being Peacekeepers. Shelly says that it is exceptionally rare for a Career tribute from the masonry district to feel. Their anger and desire for leadership overpowers any emotion that might be within them, and that is usually what blinds them with rage. When this emotion takes over, their movements are usually sloppy and their brains don't think to do anything other than to slaughter their enemy. They rely on brute strength. I cringe when Shelly gives us examples of the actions of their twelve victors, and most significantly, Lyme and Brutus.

Our own district, however, has a whopping number of thirteen victors, with four of them dead. I don't know whether I should be proud or shocked that we have more victors than District Two does. Shelly tells Maya and I that the Careers in District Four are taught to be smart - at least smarter than District One and Two. Some grow to be deceptive and manipulative like herself, whilst others learn tactics in battle strategies and finding ways to defeat the opponent, in a way that is unknown to the enemy. District Four trainees rely on neither brute strength and beauty wholly. They are all-rounders.

After dinner, we watch the reapings of all twelve districts. The seventeen year old girl from One, Indiana, is undoubtedly going to use her beauty to her advantage and I mentally note that I need to look out for her. Standing at a considerably short height of five foot eight, she has a rather curved figure with hazel eyes and platinum blonde hair. The boy is surprisingly, not a volunteer. He's only sixteen, a young age for a Career tribute, with dirty blonde hair and a smirk. District Two is just as intimidating as usual, with their bulging muscles. By judging their height, I can predict that they will tower over me with a good six inches to their advantage. The District Three tributes are forgettable.

When my face comes up onto the screen, I'm shocked that I have such a blank expression on my face with the exception of my smirk. Maya's expression is almost identical to mine and I have to admit, we do in fact, look fairly intimidating.

Shelly nods in approval, "Good, good. I'm sure you'll scare off the tributes from lesser tributes."

As expected, everyone else is pretty forgettable but I know not to underestimate anyone. When Maya and I are finally let out of Shelly's grasp, we retreat to our rooms without another word. I am welcomed by the warm water that cascades down my body from the shower cap, and I stand there for a long time with my eyes closed. I almost doze off in the shower until I hear a knock.

Hastily, I dry myself and pull on a pair of slacks that had already been laid out on my bed. "What?" I bark, opening the door.

When I see that it's Mags, I regret my actions immediately and apologise. She merely waves me off and invites herself into my room, as I tug on a shirt. We both sit on my bed in a comfortable silence, waiting for the other to speak.

Eventually, she opens up her fist and offers a few sugar cubes. I gladly take one, popping it into my mouth and savour the sugary sweetness that invades my taste buds.

"Never trust anyone in the arena," she says and I'm almost shocked that she can speak an entire sentence. "Except Maya. Listen to everything Shelly and I tell you. It will save your life."

I nod. "Do you… do you think I have a chance, Mags? I mean, look at District One and Two. They're so much stronger than Maya and I."

She gives me a gummy smile. "Of course. They might be stronger but you're smarter. I know it and you have family to go back to."

_Rhea_.

* * *

The next morning when we wake in the Capitol, it is chaotic. Apparently, I have slept in for the second consecutive day and before I can even get my hands on any food, I'm shoved into my room on Level Four by my prep team.

"My, my. Our work is definitely cut out for us this year, don't you think?" a petite lady chirps, once they have stripped me of my clothes.

Being only fourteen, nudity wasn't something I had grown familiar with. I squirmed underneath their gazes. To think that only my family had seen me naked before, I felt uncomfortable in front of these three strangers - all female, might I add.

I raise an eyebrow and ask, "Who are you?"

"I'm Ellina," the same lady introduces herself. Her fluoro yellow hair spikes in any possible direction and her blood red eyes make her look like a demon. "And they are Cartia and Aurora."

Cartia looks somewhat decent, but with her Capitol accent, I can take anything she says seriously. She has natural blonde hair that has been elegantly twisted into a bun and her blue eyes make her seem more like a genuine human. The one physical feature that I find unnatural is her sharp hourglass figure. Her hips jut out to the side and her waist is tiny, despite having such a voluptuous chest. But I guess, the perks of living in the Capitol is that they can make just about anything possible.

Aurora is a sharp contrast to Cartia. She is tall - at least six feet - and has a sickly thin figure. Her elbows and collarbone protrudes out, making it seem like she has lived in District Twelve. Her pin straight hair is an electric blue and her eyes match. Whenever she looks at me, I feel the need to crawl into a shell and never come back out. Her eyes seem to look through my soul and I can't help but think how peculiar the Capitolians really are.

For the next few hours, I endure a torture I have never experienced before. I am prodded with metal objects - tweezers, I think they're called - and all my body hair has been ripped off. Despite having their work cut out for them, Cartia says that I still need some polishing.

"Trust me, Finnick. You only need about three hours. We usually take ten or so when we take care of the outside Districts. No sanitary products there, I tell you," Ellina chirps, while she scrubs my body clean of what is supposedly the famous fish odour from District Four.

My head is then dunked underneath the surface of the water and this time, my hair is being lathered with shampoo and conditioner not just once, but several times. Their nails dig into my scalp and skin, and I want to scream and them to stop but Mags had told me to do everything they order me to do, and to never refuse or protest. I simply decide to not speak as much as possible.

When they are finally done with me, my skin is raw and red from the hot water. My hair is a shining bronze colour. I'm guided to body-length mirror and the girls, even Aurora, gasp. Ellina fans her face with her manicured hand and stares at me head to toe with wide eyes.

"Oh my…" she says, "We've created the most beautiful creature ever."

Ellina faints into the arms of Aurora, who simply rolls her eyes and places the woman on a nearby couch. The room is silent for a while before Cartia speaks up, "It's true… You are a handsome, young man, undoubtedly for someone your age. Very desirable."

I feel blood rushing up to my cheeks when she continues to elaborate and I awkwardly stand there. I notice that it's something I seem to do a lot of now.

I'm saved when the stylist, Tatiana saunters in, carrying a bag. She snaps her fingers and my prep team are out the door within seconds. Bright lime green hair and yellow eyes. _Great. _

"You're not going to dress me anything ridiculous, are you?" I question. I think of the previous District Four outfits which have been worn in the Opening Ceremonies. Some were dressed as mermaids, others dressed as scallops and clams. Their stylists had obviously went overboard with the whole District Four theme.

Tatiana doesn't respond. She only looks over my body a few times, scrutinising me as if every part of me is to be imprinted into her memory. When she opens up the bag in hand, I can only brace myself for the awful costume that is to come.

* * *

I was wrong. The costume wasn't as awful as I had predicted it to be.

Maya and I are standing next to our designated horses talking to Mags and Shelly, waiting for the Opening Ceremonies to begin. Tatiana has dress me in loose pants which reach down halfway between my ankles and knees, but they're tight around my waist and where they end. They are shiny - something I would expect District One to wear. They're an aqua and silver colour. Apart from the pants, I only have a net draped across upper back, leaving barely anything to imagination at the front. I hold a trident in my left hand, and the familiar feel of it brings me back into a state of homesickness but I try and push the thought of home aside.

Maya is beautiful, not that she wasn't before all her transformation today. Her dress glimmers as well, starting off white at the top and gradually becomes the same aqua and silver shade as my own outfit. At the front, the dress ends mid-thigh, and at the rear, it reaches the floor. Her blonde hair is even wavier than it was before and she looks like a model.

"Smile and wave!" Shelly tells us, breaking me out of my trance and I'm forced to hop onto the carriage.

Districts One are nude, I think, with jewels that have been stuck onto them, covering their most prized assets. District Two are dressed in blood red outfits and I can't help but think how well it suits them, especially with their unstoppable bloodlust. District Three's tributes cower in their carriages, with silver panels as headpieces. Unusual.

"Come on out, District Four!" Caesar announces.

Maya and I are met with the deafening applause and cheers of the audience. For a moment, we are gaping in awe at our surroundings but when we take note of our expressions on the big screen, we instantly smile and wave at the screaming men and women. I wrap an arm around Maya's waist, bringing her closer to me and allow a genuine grin to take place on my face. My other hand grips onto the trident tightly.

"They love us!" Maya shouts at me.

"I know!"

We blow kisses and wink at the roaring crowd and it is now, that we notice that we outfits make us look like waves, or we're riding waves. It is astounding, really.

District Four, this year, is the most attention-grabbing District. Maya grabs the attention of both genders, and I notice that women fawn all over me, despite being yards away from me. It is just this once that I finally realise that maybe, the odds may be indeed in our favour, even if it's for a little while.


	3. Chapter 3

**III. Training **

When Maya and I arrive at the training centre the next morning, it turns out that we are the last ones to arrive. We join the semi-circle of tributes around Atala, one of the trainers, and she explains to us the rules and gives us advice. I ignore her. I want to scope out my competition, and see who will be my potential allies and enemies.

Indiana and Brock, the boy from Two are sneering at the rest of the tributes and shooting them glares. They are undoubtedly the most vicious of the tributes this year. Offscreen, the girl from District Two doesn't look like much. If anything, she looks like a kid with a bit of muscle here and there. She's at least a few inches shorter than myself and Maya, and I can easily see myself taking on her without much difficulty. She wouldn't be a difficult kill.

_No, Finnick_, I scold myself, _Don't think about killing. _I'm almost disgusted with myself.

Instinctively, I find myself inching towards Maya, not due to fear, but because of the lingering gaze she receives from District One's male tribute. Carter is his name, I think. The way he smirks at her disturbs me; it's almost like he's proud of the fact that he's undressing my best friend mentally and there is nothing undignified with that. I'm thankful when Atala dismisses us to do whatever we want and I instantly drag Maya to the fire station.

"What was that for?" she whines, rubbing the part of her arm where I had gripped her.

"Sorry," I mutter, "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am. Why?"

"Did you not see Carter looking like he want to rip your clothes off?"

She sighs softly. "Yeah, I saw but there's not much we can do about it. If we do, we'll be at the top of their kill list."

I don't say anything because I know it's true. Building a fire is easy. Back in District Four, Maya and I would pretend to go out camping and stay at the beach by ourselves, enjoying the warmth of the sun during the daylight and lit fires at night. We cooked fish and shared stories over and over again. It never grew old. My mood instantaneously drops when I realise that this won't ever happen again. Either one or neither of us come out of this alive, and even if one of us survive, it will never be the same. I know it.

The tributes from District Seven and Nine make small talk with use, but the conversations are mostly awkward and die down after a few minutes. Mags and Shelly had told us to not join the Careers for the sixth time since we've arrived in the Capitol, and to even out the time we spend at both survival and weaponry stations. We don't argue with them, knowing that they are correct. Many tributes in the past have accidentally mistaken inedible plants for another and the result is an undignified death for their District.

The next few hours consist of more survival training - netting, which is already one of our specialities, edible plants, climbing, and all sorts of other. After lunch, we decide to try weaponry. Shelly had demanded that I teach Maya a few moves with the knife and spear as it could come in handy in the arena. There has already been an unspoken, yet certain agreement that we will stick by each other's side until the very end. The trainer at the spears station doesn't bother talking to us, probably thinking that we already have a sufficient amount of knowledge on weapons, coming from a Career District.

Weighing the spear in my hand, I realise that it's lighter than I had expected - at least five times lighter than my trident back home. I move into the stance I use whenever I spear fish with my trident and I throw at the target twenty yards away from me. The weapon punctures the shoulder of the dummy and I curse, under my breath. The Careers simply laugh, making it evident that this year, District Four is not welcome in their alliance, not that it even bothered us.

"I want to try," Maya says. She imitates my previous stance, aims and throws. Bulls eye.

I blink, attempting to process what she had just done and before I can say anything, she's throwing another spear and it hits the heart of a dummy at least thirty yards away. Even the trainer is shocked. She continues on relentlessly, hitting target after target in the deadliest areas of the bodies. With each throw, she grunts out with the effort and strength she needs puts in, but she's not as loud as I've heard Indiana be. Everyone stops to watch - every Gamemaker, every trainer and every tribute is watching the girl throwing the spears, in astonishment. Maya only misses once and it's the dummy that's the furthest away from us, but it doesn't matter. I'm mesmerised by her skill - her hidden talent - and I watch her, as if in a trance, until there are no more spears.

"Way to go. I think we just found your talent," I murmur with a smile.

She grins back at me, panting and brushes her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. Even sweating, she is a beauty. "Well, that was fun."

"I bet it was." I give her a wink and we're off to the knives station.

Maya's a fast learner. I can easily say that, but her initial ability - or lack of ability - with the knife was horrible. It almost made me cringe when she threw a dagger, only to have it land ten yards to the right of the dummy and almost chopping off one of the trainers' ears. Despite multiple examples and lessons from both myself and the designated trainer, she understands the concept of using a throwing knife, but not to much success. We end up laughing it off and she watches me for a while before we head to the other stations.

She does considerably well with a sword, while I cannot be bothered at all to learn. Or more like, I found the perfect station for me. It's hidden but the gleam of a brand new weapon lures me and within seconds, I have an all-too-familiar trident back in my hands and I'm whacking and throwing at the dummies with all my might. Just like Maya had done with the spears.

I'm back at home. Father is teaching me the different skills on manoeuvring the trident around, looking for the best possible way out of the dummy in front of me. He scolds me when I hesitate for the slightest moment to scratch my itching nose. "_It's not my fault there's so much dust,"_ I say, and he scolds me again for being distracted. He tells me to imagine that the trident is a part of my arm and I need to utilise it the way in a way where it feels the most natural. _"The trident is a part of you, Finnick," he says, "Don't you ever forget that." _

I'm back on our fishing boat and I'm spearing at the fish in the ocean with my trident. There are mere vulnerable creatures and I'm the human at the top of the food chain. I'm the predator and they are the enemies. I stab a few times, at the shark that threatens to swim within a few metres of our boat and I watch as the water bubbles up with a pink foam - _blood _\- and it sinks back into the water, defeated.

These dummies are sharks and to win, I must kill them. I'm not killing dummies. I'm killing _sharks._

When I'm done, I am drenched with sweat. My bronze hair is matted down but the adrenaline is still rushing through my veins. The eight dummies aren't even dummies anymore. They are either holy or torn up into shreds from the twisting and tugging of the trident. Tatters lie all over the area that surrounds me and it's deathly silent for a few moments. I merely stare at the tributes before me who gape with wide eyes and open jaws.

"Well, what are you looking at?" I snap, "There's nothing here."

Only the Careers linger back. "Don't bother," Maya says, "We're not joining."

It isn't surprising that they're angered - furious, more like - but it doesn't bother us. We just ignore them as if they don't exist and most unusually, laugh at how easily riled up they are.

* * *

"Finnick Odair."

I stand up, stiffly with my head held up high. _I'm not afraid_.

At least, I think I'm not.

"Good luck," Maya whispers before I enter the training room.

Without the trainers and tributes, it looks much more spacious and intimidating than it usually did. My palms being to sweat and my heart beats erratically. "I'm Finnick Odair from District Four."

I grab a handful of knives, testing the weight of each one by tossing it in the air and catching it by the handle without much effort. And then, I throw. I hit bulls eye eight out of nine throws.

I don't particularly do well with spears. I hit the arm and leg but nowhere fatal enough to do much damage so I end up using the trident, despite knowing that it won't be provided in the arena.

A half hour later, Maya, the stylists, Venala, Mags, Shelly and I are gathered in the living room of our floor, watching the scores. Apparently, Maya had shown off her spear throwing and sword fighting, which will undoubtedly give her a brilliant score. Carter and Indiana receive a ten and nine, respectively. The female tribute from District Two receives an average score of eight and Brock receives a nine. District Three both get fives and when it's our turn, I take it a breath.

"Finnick Odair… A ten!" Caeser Flickerman announces. I close my eyes for a brief second and breathe out again. Mags rubs my arm, soothingly and gives me an encouraging smile, as does everyone else.

"Maya Cresta…" Caeser cocks a salmon pink eyebrow and exclaims, "Eleven!"

The girl stares at the screen unbelievingly and blinks. "We did it!" she screams and tackles me into a hug. I laugh and enjoy her embrace, wrapping my arms around her waist. Venala, the mentors and the stylists shower us with compliments and applause.

"What you did must have been awesome!" I exclaim.

She nods, modestly and says, "Not really. I just showed what I learnt and what you taught me."

When I sleep that night, I thrash around in my bed, kicking and screaming, according to Mags. I see myself killing my own best friend in cold blood. I watch her beg for me to spare her life and I watch myself forcing her to suffer. I end up waking up in cold sweat with tears pouring down my cheeks when I finally come to the realisation that Maya will be one of the sharks in the arena.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! I don't really have much to say here except to say thank you for the great reviews :) Also, updates will be sporadic. There won't be a specific day I update everyday or anything. I usually have things popping up, so I apologise in advance for any late/slow updates in the future. I will, however, try to make them a consistent length each time. This isn't a very good chapter but I hope that it's alright :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**IV. Interviews &amp; Bloodbath **

_Be charming, Finnick. Make them love you. _

Mags' words echo around in my head as I wait anxiously for my interview. I rub my palms together and fidget with the hem of my suit. Tatiana has decided to dress me in an unbuttoned sea green blazer, with a completely transparent white dress shirt, along with some black dress pants and formal shoes. I will supposedly be 'eye candy' to the women of the Capitol. Carter approaches the interview using the funny angle, while Indiana is seductive, or as I like to call, slutty. Both tributes from District Two use the ruthless angle. They are both too arrogant for their own good and repeat how they would bring pride to their district over and over throughout their interview. "Pathetic," I hear Maya mumble. The male tribute of District Three approaches the cunning angle, which surprisingly suits him rather well, and the female barely grabs the attention of the audience with her innocence.

I let out a deep breath when my name is heard over the loudspeaker and I brush down my suit. "Good luck," Maya says.

"You too," I grin at her.

It is overwhelming when I step out onto the stage. The crowd erupts into an uproarious cheer. Women shriek my name, blowing kisses and some even leap forward. It's deafening; I don't think District One or Two have received this much attention. I return their gestures, grinning and winking. A few surprisingly faint, though I never winked at one particular woman; just at the crowd.

"Wow… Finnick Odair," Caesar greets. "What a pleasure to officially meet you!"

I take a seat and say, "Not as much of a pleasure as it is for me to meet you. I must say pink really is your colour."

_Lies. All lies. _

I'm tempted to say, "You look horrible," because it's true in my eyes. Caesar Flickerman looks utterly ridiculous, gloriously sitting there, with his perfectly dyed and stylised pink hair.

He laughs his infamous laugh and replies, "Thank you, thank you. Don't you look dashing, Finnick? All the women back in District Four must love you."

Crossing my arms, I lean back and smirk. "Nah, I don't think I caught much attention."

"Well we have plenty of women, right everyone?"

The audience screams again - mostly women, but several men also cheer along. "Marry me, Finnick!" an orange woman at the front shrieks.

I realise that Caesar helps us when we're running out of things to say, and I'm starting to worry because I'm only thirty seconds into my interview and I'm already running out of things to say. "So what do you like most about the Capitol?"

I take a moment to think. "The food, definitely. I mean, I haven't even heard of most of the stuff they gave us on the train. It's shocking, really… and of course, there's the women."

One suggestive wink and the women are screaming again.

"I love you, Finnick!"

"You're beautiful!"

"Finnick!"

"Ah yes," Caesar nods, grinning. "You're probably the golden boy, if I do say so myself. You seem to have caught quite the attention here - a pretty large fanbase."

I smirk, lazily. _Play charming, Finnick. _

"Not as much as they have caught my attention. I must say, Caesar, the women here are absolutely gorgeous."

This time, it takes a while to calm the women in the crowd down and I'm grateful, for this uses up more of my interview time. I don't have to say as much. "Now, Finnick," Caesar leans in towards me, giving me the urge to lean back as he does. "I… Well, most likely, the whole of Panem have come to realise how close you and Maya Cresta are. Care to explain?"

He looks genuinely intrigued, as do the audience. Was it that obvious?

"We're best friends," I say.

Caesar nods, giving me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about that. What do you think will happen when it comes down to you two?"

"Well, hopefully that won't happen. I cannot imagine either one of us ending the other's life. But… she volunteered for my own sister and I'm her debt now. I'll make sure that she comes out alive and if not, then I will."

_Stay tough. Don't cry. Don't look weak. _

I'm saved by the timer when it suddenly rings. "Well, I guess our time is up." He grabs my hand and we both stand up, as he shouts, "Give it up for Finnick Odair, District Four!"

The audience erupts into roars and I sit down next to the girl from Three. I can sense Carter's glare at me; he glares because we both went for charming but I received more attention. I give him a smug smirk and watch as Maya walks out onto stage.

With a floor length dress, she looks absolutely dazzling and I'm sure it's not just in my eyes that she is beautiful. Her dress is a pure white, symbolising innocence, I assume, with an aqua sash and v-neck. Silver bangles and bracelets adorn her left arm from the wrist to the elbow and three jewels have been glued onto her cheek under each eye.

"Don't you look stunning, Maya?" Caesar compliments.

"Thank you, Caesar," Maya smiles, "You look very handsome yourself."

The interviewer himself, blushes. I think he forces himself to blush. After so many years of having this job, I'm sure he's used to the many compliments he receives.

"Your friend here, Finnick, has said that you two are best friends. Anything to add?"

"Well, Caesar, he's already said what there is to be said. What else is there? It would be very unfortunate, however, if neither of us made it out…" she sympathises and wipes a fake tear away. _That's my best friend_, I think. Playing with the audience's emotions is incredibly smart, yet hard to pull off. Maya's bottom lip trembles as she continues on, "And if only one of us make it out alive, it's just as unfortunate. We're like twins, you see. We can't live without each other."

Both men and women in the crowd burst into tears. A few coo and whimper over the sob story, which is in fact true and I'm certain that there are also the few who enjoy this for more drama.

Caesar smiles sadly at the pair of us. "I'm sure we'll miss whoever doesn't make it… Onto a different matter, you received the highest score, an 11! Now how did you get that?"

She giggles. She giggles the girliest giggle I have ever heard that has come from her. I feel a bitter disgust towards Venala. I know without a doubt that she has changed Maya, even if it is just an act. Maya _never _giggles.

"Well, Caesar, if I said anything, it wouldn't be a secret now, would it? Besides, I barely even did anything."

Her interviewing time is up and she leaves to sit next to me. "Good job," we say to each other and we hold onto each other's hands, as an act of comfort, throughout the rest of the interviews.

The girl from District Nine makes quite an impression, most likely leaving her at the top of the Careers kills list, right after Maya and myself. Diedre is her name, I think. She rages about how the Careers won't win this year. She rambles about how the Careers will be too stuck up, obnoxious and arrogant and how she will win. Diedre has fire in her eyes. Fierce, determined and brave, but untrustworthy. Caesar actually glances around, nervously, probably never having to deal with someone with such attitude from a lower District.

District Eleven's boy also creates a sob story. He has left behind three younger sisters and two brothers. He lives in poverty and they have no parents. He is the sole protector of his family. My heart goes out to him and the rest of his family. I can't imagine a world where Rhea lives alone without our parents or myself as support.

* * *

I stare up at the ceiling blankly. I have stripped down to just my undergarments and I lay in bed, unable to sleep. One part of me thinks that I'm too afraid of the upcoming nightmares but the other is that I just can't. It's just that my body won't let me.

"Finnick?" I hear Maya's voice through the door.

"Come in."

The door opens then shuts behind her, and she crawls into bed next to me. If this was any other girl, I'd be overwhelmingly uncomfortable right now but Maya and I have done this since we were kids. We helped each other whenever we had nightmares. Since her mother was deceased, her father was constantly at work and barely at home, leaving the house to Maya and Annie, who couldn't help at such a young age. It was always the two of us.

We simply lay next to each other, eyes closed and enjoying each other's presence.

"You know… Only one of us can come out," she says.

"I know," I reply. Over the past few days, I have come to realise that if died in the Games, my parents and Rhea would be able to cope. If Maya were to be crowned victor, her winning's cash would be more than enough for her and Annie. Maya could look after Rhea if my parents weren't available. It would be no problem. If Maya wasn't victor, Annie would have no constant family around. Despite barely knowing her, I still care for her, especially since she's only twelve.

"You're going to win," I declare. "We'll protect each other as much as we can in the arena and if it comes down to the two of us, you're getting out. Annie needs you more than my family need me."

"No," she denies, shaking her head fiercely. "I won't let that happen."

I turn onto my side so we're facing each other. "Maya, you're the only family Annie has left. Rhea has my parents."

We both know she can't argue to this but she says, "How about one of us have to win, and the winner needs to look after the other's family."

"Of course."

"Promise me?"

"I promise."

"Me too."

* * *

Running.

That's what Tatiana assumed there would be a lot of, the moment she saw the arena outfits. "I presume there will be plenty of mud, hence the boots, and mud leads to water. Don't forget that. It doesn't give much about the temperature… The jacket's fairly thin and not incredibly thin for it to be desert hot. Maybe something mild. It's pretty vague this year. Sorry Finnick," she says, apologetically.

"It's fine," I smile, "You've given me plenty of advice and information.

"Two minutes."

Tatiana adjusts the flimsy piece of rope Annie gave me around my wrist and envelops me in a hug. I hug back, knowing this will be the last human contact before I enter the arena and face my imminent death. "I believe in you, Finnick. Both you and Maya. You have been one of the most amazing and genuine tributes I've had."

She pulls back and smiles at me, sadly. "Remember everything Mags and I taught you."

I nod, stiffly. "Thank you."

I step onto the platform just before it starts to rise. I catch Tatiana mouth, "Good luck" to me and I'm sudden rush of humid air whips past me.

"Ladies and gentleman, let the 65th Hunger Games begin!"

* * *

**A/N: Any guesses on what the arena will be? :) I hope this chapter was okay. It's not my best, but I feel somewhat neutral with it. **

**As a side question, should I start the story [Golden Beauty] about Cashmere in the 66th Hunger Games? If I do start it, it's likely that it will contain spoilers for upcoming events in Finnick's story. So just of curiosity, I'd like to know how many people would want me to start it now or later. **

**Please review your thoughts on this chapter and provide a response to the question above :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: After a bit of more in-depth research, I found out that Cashmere and Gloss won the 63rd and 64th Games rather than 66th and 67th - turns out Gloss won before Cashmere, opposed to what most people believe. AND that Johanna won the 71st not the 68th/69th, so this story [Finnick's] won't change much. Originally it was supposed to be Finnick [65th], Cashmere [66th], Gloss [67th], OC [68th], Johanna [69th] and Annie [70th], so now I kind of have to swap it around. Now it's: **

**I. Chasing Impossibility [Gloss Delgado] - 63rd Games  
II. Golden Beauty [Cashmere Delgado] - 64th Games  
III. Trident Boy [Finnick Odair] - 65th Games  
IV. An Act Of Pretence [Annie Cresta] - 70th Games  
V. Female Warrior [Johanna Mason] - 71st Games**

**This is the third book, so I'll start on Gloss' story soon.**

* * *

**_You'll change inside when you realise_**

**_The world comes to life and everything's bright._**

**_From beginning to end when you have a friend,_**

**_By your side that helps you to find the beauty you are,_**

**_When you open your heart and believe in the gift of a friend._**

**_\- Gift of a Friend, Demi Lovato_**

* * *

**V. Let The Games Begin! **

Falling.

I can feel myself falling.

I hear the rush of the wind swish past and I realise I'm not falling. My pedestal clicks in and it takes a large amount of effort to maintain my balance. A new rush of humid air whips by and I almost lose my footing. _No, Finnick, don't fall off. _

We are surrounded by swampland. About ten metres from the ring of tributes, the rainforest terrain starts. Half of it is rocky and steep, but a rainforest nonetheless. Water will be easy to find. The golden Cornucopia stands in front of us, right in the centre. The sun's reflection glares at me and I have to squint to be able to see it, but fortunately, I'm right in front of the mouth.

_Thirty seconds._

I'm between the male from District Twelve and the female from Two, whose name I still haven't learnt. Not that I even need to anymore. She glares at me in hopes of intimidating me, but I merely smirk and wink at her. I scan the circle of tributes and spot Maya, stuck between the pair from One. Well, shit. I catch her gaze and mime the action of pushing someone over, then nod towards the steeper part of the terrain. She nods and faces the Cornucopia with a determined expression.

_Fifteen seconds. _

We can do this. We are from District Four. Maya and I are used to wading and running in dirty water. This shouldn't be much of a difference. If anything, we should be at more of an advantage since other districts have only rainfall as water.

_Three seconds. _

_What the fuck do I do? _I think.

_Two seconds. _

An explosion. A billow of smoke is all that remains of the measly girl from District Ten, who had only been two pedestals to my right.

_One second._

Everyone stares in utter shock, and the gong rings, bringing everyone out of their daze.

I step into the swamp, grimacing at how thick the mud is. It clings to my trousers but I venture on further. The boy from Twelve faceplants the moment he steps off - or rather, slips off. I don't run for the Cornucopia. I shove District Two's female tribute over while she's distracted with her surroundings. She screams at me, outrageously. Maya does the same with the other Careers.

I notice that the swampy water is deeper at the Cornucopia, which proves to be a disadvantage to shorter tributes as it is already past my height. I end up treading water and swimming a few metres. By the time I reach the Cornucopia, the mud and water has slowed me down a lot, yet I'm the only one there.

"Finnick!"

Maya, who is currently the closest to the Cornucopia aside from me, stands halfway between the pedestals and the Cornucopia. _Best to hog the supplies_, I think to myself. I grab not one, but four backpacks and throw them, one by one, at Maya who catches them with ease. She ends up sprinting towards the steep region, carrying three backpacks on her back and carrying the other.

"District Four!" Carter booms, as he trudges through the muddy water. "Dead! You're not getting out of this, Pretty Boy. "

Ignoring him, I think, _knive__s. Where are they? _

Rummaging through the Cornucopia, I finally find a belt of knives of all sorts and clasp it around the waistband of my pants. I hook a few other knives into the interior of my jacket, hastily and grab a few spears, along with a hefty sword.

_Run! _My conscience screams at me to run as fast as I can. I notice tributes missing; they've drowned, undoubtedly, or they have been strangled to death by the Careers, who are only a few meters away from the Cornucopia. The bloodbath will be starting soon so I don't bother with anyone in my way. Despite the weighty weapons I'm carrying, I manage to swim and sprint through the shallowest parts of the swamp and run in the direction where Maya had headed.

I don't even think of stopping when Maya jumps down from a nearby tree and joins me. "Come on!" she says as she sprints past me.

The excessive amounts of foliage and the moist ground makes it harder to maintain a steady pace whilst running. After what seems like ages, we stop in front of a stream.

"Should we go across?" I ask.

"I don't know…" Maya says, uncertainly. "Do you think there are piranhas or fish mutts?"

Before I can reply, she suggest, "How about we just go across? They wouldn't unleash mutts so early. The bloodbath is probably still going on so we should go across before it's too late."

The stream turns out to be as deep as an ocean should be. We use this chance to wash the grime off us. Even though our clothes are soaking wet by the time we're out, we're free of excessive mud.

I think we run for around ten minutes or so. We stumble every now and then, before we find a nice area to camp out. An isolated cave that has been enclosed on all sides, except the entrance, which is just big enough to squeeze me through. We're situated by a lake, giving us easy access to water and hopefully, it's far enough from the other tributes. It's hot and humid; hotter than it has ever been in District Four. I'm not completely sure whether the moisture on our skin is from the water in the lake or from sweating.

The repeating sound of the canon causes me to jump slightly in my spot. I count eleven.

"Eleven tributes down already. We are lucky this year," Maya murmurs softly and I nod. "Let's look at what we have."

All four packs are identical. We have a considerably abundant supply - matches, rope, iodine enough to last a month, six packets of dried beef, four empty flasks for water, four sleeping bags and night vision glasses. Add seven spears, a sword and two dozen knifes.

"We're loaded," I say.

"Yeah…"

It's silent for a while. We prepare the sleeping bags out for tonight and we sit, listening to the rush of water and the birds chirp. _If only this could last forever_.

By the end of the day, no more cannons sound. The anthem sounds and we gaze up at the holography that appears at the ceiling of our cave.

The girl from Two, the girl from Three, both from Five, the boy from Six, the girls from Eight, Nine and Ten, both tributes from Eleven and the boy from Twelve.

"What happened to Alora?" Maya questions me, with a shocked expression.

"Alora?" I repeat.

"District Two."

_Oh_. "Um… I don't know," I reply. "I pushed her into the swamp. Maybe she drowned in the deep end? Or the Careers finished her off. Who knows?"

She nods slightly and suggests that we should net together a flap for the cave's opening, so it's not as obvious to other tributes. We make knots with a bit of the rope provided, as well as leaves, twigs, sticks and anything else we find along the forest floor. We roll it around in mud for camouflage and tie it onto a sturdy rock nearby. It blocks the only source of natural sunlight but we light a fire to make up for it.

Within minutes, the temperature drops drastically. _Oh, no_. In District Four, we experience constant temperatures, with the rare hurricanes and torrential rainfalls. Maya and I are sent out to sea often, to catch fish, but even then it's hot but windy at the same time. Being cold is rare for us.

Our teeth chatter and goosebumps form all over our arms and legs. "I-it's freezing," Maya stutters out. The wind outside roars in our ears.

A _clink_ catches our attention. _A parachute! _Mags and Shelley had sent us warm, thick blankets.

"Thank you" I manage to say through the constant chattering of my teeth and move the weapons and sleeping bags to the other side of the fire, towards the far end of our cave. "Come here." I drag a log over by the fireplace and sit on it with Maya, wrapping the blankets around us. I place my arm around her, rubbing her arm softly and our shivers come to an end soon.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah. I'm fine… You should sleep. I'll take first watch," she offers.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Go to sleep."

I get up and kiss her forehead. "Wake me up in a few hours."

The moment my head hits the ground, I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, it's broad daylight. _Day two of the Hunger Games. _The sun seeps in through the gaps of the net we've created and I notice Maya eating some of the dried beef. The gales have stopped during the night, I assume. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I accused.

"I uh…" the ghost of a smile appears at the corner of her lips as she says, "I fell asleep. Sorry."

I laugh, good-naturedly and shake my head. I should've expected that.

"Let's go out for a walk!" she exclaims. "We can catch some actual food instead of this… crap." Her nose wrinkles at the sight of the dried beef and her hand reaches up to her hair band. She pulls it out and shakes her head, letting her hair flow down past her shoulders. "I never liked tying my hair up," she mutters.

Grabbing a spear and her sword, she takes my hand and we take a stroll along the bank of the lake. Two cannons go off and we notice that the hovercrafts pick up the bodies from what we assume to be the other side of the arena. Maya and I end up having fun in the lake, shoving each other and splashing water in each other's face. Occasionally, we race each other. We swim different strokes each time and catch a few decent sized fish with Maya's spear. It's almost like we're home again. _Almost_.

We spend a few hours goofing around, making the most of our time before we head back to our cave, even though it's only a little past noon. We strip down to our undergarments and hang our sodden clothes on a makeshift clothing line, made of rope. Maya laughs, "The audience will love this. I mean, Finnick Odair half naked? They're digging this."

"Oh, really, huh? What about you? Any guy would love to see you like this," I state.

She bats her eyelids in an almost ridiculous manner, that makes me laugh along with her. "I didn't know you felt that way about me, Odair," she teases.

I wriggle my eyebrows at her and wink, jokingly. Hopefully, the Capitol loves our banter. We cook the fish with the fire and eat them for lunch, barely giving any thought in preserving them. We redress and sit in front of the entrance, basking in the sunlight and keeping watch.

We make casual small talk. We try to avoid the topic of home and we're so caught up in our conversation, we almost don't realise that we are in the arena. The silhouette of a human sized figure appears in front of me and I pivot around, finding myself face to face with the boy from Three. We stare at each other for a moment before he leaps off the rock.

I hear a grunt from nearby and I turn my head around to find Maya engaged in a fight with the boy from Eight who waves a mace around. This moment's distraction is enough for the boy from Three to sock me in the jaw, and it's surprisingly strong. I yell out a shout of pain as I bite my tongue in the process. Spitting out blood, I wrestle the boy and notice he wields a sickle.

He doesn't have much on me. He's taller but he's skinny. I manage to pin him down to the ground for a few seconds but he wriggles constantly, flailing the weapon around carelessly and I'm forced to release my grip on him. Kicking me in the back of the knees, he swings the sickle around, showing his lack of ability to use it. I dodge a few blows but I'm too slow for the sixth time he swings it. It slices my forearm and I grunt.

The boy grins at me, almost as if he's the devil. The cannon booms and my heart pounds rapidly. _Maya! _She stands up, shakily and grimaces at the dead body in front of her. District Eight's boy has a spear embedded right in his heart. The boy from Three pales and starts to run away from us a little too late. I pull out a dagger from my belt with my good arm, aim and throw. It lands right where I aimed for - the small of his back. His arms flail around, wildly and he gasps in shock and pain. Out of pity, I throw another at his neck and the cannon booms instantly.

_I'm a murderer_.

* * *

For the next few hours, we stay in hiding, taking care of ourselves. Maya had ended up with a twisted ankle, which she was used to, so that was a relief to know. We cleaned up my cut and applied the ice Mags had sent, to the bruise on my jaw. "Not much of a pretty boy now, Finnick?" Maya had teased me.

When the dead tributes are shown at night, I'm surprised to see Brock there. I had thought he would last longer. District Two is out of the Games early this year. I look away in guilt when the boy from Three appears.

"It was either you or him," Maya says, rubbing my back softly. "Don't feel bad."

The girl from Seven pops up next. She barely looks twelve, even when the picture is a close up shot of her face. She disappears within seconds and is replaced by the boy from Eight, who Maya killed.

She looks up, blankly. She shows no emotion and I'm jealous. I envy how mentally strong she is.

We skip dinner; neither of us have any appetite tonight so we decide to sleep.

"I'll take first watch," I offer.

Maya shakes her head and declines, "No. You know I can't sleep early. You go ahead. I won't fall asleep again, I promise."

I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. "I can't," I say. "Whenever I close my eyes, I see _him_." My voice cracks while I speak and I force my unshed tears to not show.

"Same," Maya replies.

We are murderers now. We entered the arena just yesterday and our innocence has been taken away from us. The boys we killed couldn't have been much older than us. They were children, just like us, yet we still killed them anyway. The feeling of guilt is inevitable now.

"We did it to defend ourselves, Finn," she says, rationally, just like she always does. "We did it for ourselves. They were the ones who attacked us."

"I know… but they… I…" I can't say anymore because I don't _know _what to say anymore.

"Come here," she gestures for me to lay down and rest my head on her lap, and I do exactly that.

Maya runs her delicate hand through my hair and starts to sing.

_"Sometimes you think you'll be fine by yourself,_

_'cause a dream is a wish that you make all alone. _

_It's easy to feel like you don't need help, _

_But it's harder to walk on your own." _

I close my eyes and smile. _The song Mother sang to us every night. _I know the lyrics all too well.

_"You'll change inside when you realise _

_The world comes to life and everything's bright._

_From beginning to end when you have a friend,_

_By your side that helps you to find the beauty you are,_

_When you open your heart and believe in the gift of a friend."_

Maya's voice is beautiful when she sings, and she says I sound nice too, when I sing. But I don't believe her; I believe I sound like a cat screeching. We usually sing this to each other whenever one of us struggles and whenever we have a nightmare. It would be our comfort. The boy from Three is erased from my mind and I see Maya, Rhea, Annie and I on our own little boat, a few months ago, joking around like we had the perfect lives.

If only we were back in District Four.

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the song :) It's _Gift of a Friend _by Demi Lovato. Please review your thoughts on this chapter; constructive criticism is always appreciated! :) Don't be a ghost reader; reviews really do encourage me into writing more! **

**As a side note, I'll be starting _"The Victors of Panem"_. It'll be a profile of every single victor of the Hunger Games, so keep an eye on that as well! :) _  
_**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you to MsMKT86 and HungerGamesOwl for reviewing! :) **

**You guys should check out _The Victors of Panem_! It's up on my profile already!**

* * *

_**I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart**_  
_**And no one will desert you**_  
_**Just try to never grow up, never grow up**_

_**\- Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift**_

* * *

**VI. **

I despise the Games. I always have but now, this hatred has gone to such an extent that I want to scream and rip my hair out. There have been several previous Hunger Games with drastic weather changes. It was bad, yes, people died of intense and incurable fevers, but _this _was torture.

Well, I should have expected that. The first night was freezing as hell and if it weren't for the sponsors, I'm sure we would have gotten frostbite. The second night on the other hand, was incredibly hot. It wasn't just District Four's usual thirty-something degrees Celsius weather. It was an overwhelming forty-something to fifty-something degrees. Even in our skimpy undergarments, Maya and I were drenched with sweat.

Now, it's the afternoon of the third day. Four o'clock or something like that, I think. We left out cozy cave, because we have had too many close encounters that we _just _manage to slip away from. I guess it's a great hiding place for everyone. We've been walking around for hours looking for anything remotely interesting, whilst carrying all our extra baggage around, but to no avail. My patience is running thin and with Maya's huffs of frustration, I'm almost certain she's just as impatient as I am.

It has nothing to do with the fact that nobody's dying; or maybe it is. It's not that we _want _people dying, unlike District One this year; we want to go home.

If I could, I would have frozen time before the Reaping, so Maya, Rhea, Annie and I would be able to keep our innocence. So that Rhea and Annie wouldn't have to grow up, so that they would feel _loved_. As pathetic as it sounds, I don't have any other friends. Maybe Ryan, the boy who sits next to me in maths class could be classified as my acquaintance. But other than that, it's just the girls who I hang out with and I honestly don't mind.

"Holy mother of God!"

Maya's screaming pulls me out of my thoughts as she clumsily stumbles over her own feet and latches her hand on my own. "Come on, Finnick!"

I only just notice where she's looking at - the ground. I look down in horror at the vines that slither around us, coming in closer and closer towards us, threatening to wrap around our legs and make their way to the rest of our bodies to suffocate us. They must be double the size of my bicep - if not, larger.

We have no choice but to run. I lead the way, dragging Maya behind me and scream, "Ditch a pack!" Now we only carry one backpack each, but that's not our main issue right now. I take the sword from Maya, allowing her to carry all her spears along with her pack. The vines are gaining on us now and I know it's only a matter before we have to hack away at the vines to defend ourselves.

I contemplate scaling up a tree but decide against it. With the supplies we have, we'll end up losing them and these vines are obviously designed to push the tributes towards each other. There's no point in doing so.

An ear-piercing shriek erupts from behind us and we take the risk to stop and look. It's the girl from Twelve and the vines have stopped coming for Maya and I. She looks even worse than she did during training, thinner, if that's even possible. We can only watch in horror as the vines eagerly entangle themselves around the tiny girl, trapping her against a large tree. One thick vine snakes across her throat, successfully cutting off her air supply. The cracking of her bones make me wince and we watch as she chokes. Her face turns a sickly green and her body falls limp, though the vines are still active.

The cannon doesn't go off for another few minutes and all I find myself doing, is stare at her body, which is now free of vines. Maya tugs on my jacket and urgently says, "Come on, Finn. We have to go. Someone's probably around here."

I hear a rustle behind us and instantaneously whip around to the direction we were running off to and right at that moment, the boy from Ten leaps out at us from the mass of ferns beside us. He waves a bludgeon, I think, around carelessly and lands straight onto the sword I had held up.

We stare at each other with wide eyes, light brown meeting sea green, as he coughs out blood, choking violently on it in the process. The look in his eyes haunts me. His dazed eyes seem to be empty voids of nothing. For a second, I flicker my eyes down to the sword I wield and notice that it's struck him right next to where his heart should be. Gulping, I yank my hand back and run backwards. I laugh hysterically for a few moments and I let out a shaky breath, gazing at the bloody sword in front of me.

_I need to get away from him. _

The sword clatters on the ground with a loud _clang _and I'm full on sprinting away. Maya is at the back of my mind, despite the fact that she's chasing after me with her sword and screaming my name, repetitively. Forget the uncomfortable feeling of the belt of knives rubbing against my torso and never mind the fact that I'm running into the middle of nowhere. I _run. _A scream emits somewhere around me and it takes me a few seconds to realise that I was the one who screamed.

_I'm out of my mind_.

I stop and gasp for air, back hunched over with my hands on my knees. "Finnick!" Maya exclaims, finally catching up with me. She's in a worst state than me, having to carry her spears and sword, along with her backpack.

"Sorry," I apologise. "I just had to get away…"

She nods and waves me off. "I know. Are you ok- RUN!"

This time, she's the one dragging me as she bolts down whatever path there is. The hissing of sounds almost makes me freeze in my tracks. _Snakes__._

_Mutt snakes _to make it even worse. I shuddered. I absolutely hated snakes. They had nearly caused Rhea's death when we were little and it took months for her to recover from one snake bite. She's deathly afraid of them now and I can't imagine how she must be feeling right now.

One, two, three, four, five… there's not just one snake that pursues us, there are six.

The sounds of their hissing roars in my ears, blocking out every other audible sound, and I so desperately want to cover my ears and cower in a corner somewhere, hoping to die. I close my eyes. I'm met with the brown eyes of the boy from Ten and he stares back at me, lifelessly, yet again. I run forward blindly, feeling the adrenaline rush through my veins and I take large running steps.

Then, I trip.

_Where's the ground? _I question myself but then I feel the sudden rush of air whipping my jacket. _I'm falling. _

The wind roars in my ears and I feel like I'm becoming deaf. My right hand holds Maya's, I realise. I flail my left arm around wildly, grasping at nothing but air and I release a loud shout. The wind rips through my vocals and my throat instantly hurts from the effort of screaming. A young, feminine body collides into mine and we tumble through air.

It feels like eons that we fall and we finally land with a sickening _thump. _I feel my head smack painfully onto the ground beneath me - sandstone or a rock of some sort. I keep my eyes closed. They feel impossibly heavy right now and even when closed, my head throbs. There's a heavy weight on top of me that I recognise to be Maya's body.

_Thank God she wasn't underneath me. _

I attempt lifting my head up but end up smacking it against the rock again and I weakly let out a low, guttural moan. I see stars dance across my closed eyelids and my entire body feels numb now.

"Finn?"

_Brown eyes. _Even now, they haunt me.

They stare back, lifelessly, at me for the third time and I want to cringe and scream but I can't find the effort or energy to.

"… nick?"

_Black. _

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**A/N: This is the shortest chapter in this story yet but I feel like this is the best spot to stop. Hope you like it! :) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to MsKMT86 for reviewing! :) **

**I just started school yesterday, meaning my updates won't be regular like they have been for the past few days. They'll be sporadic but I'm hoping to update at least once a week. I have a four-day school camp next week so I'm not really sure when I'll be able to update the next few chapters. Yes, the updates won't be as often, but I'll try to make them longer :)**

**Also, I'm going to put the entire A/N here since it would ruin the mood at the end of the chapter ;) I'm not particularly proud of this chapter because I seem to never right emotional stuff properly, but I hope it's go! Don't forget to read and review :) **

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_**Oh it seems to me  
That sorry seems to be the hardest word**_

_**\- Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word, Elton John**_

* * *

**VII. Too Late **

I wake up to the scorching sun and I feel like my entire is on fire. Whether it's from the heat or the numbness, I don't know. I can sense a dull throb in my head and I see a girl's face hovering over mine. She has a genuine smile plastered on her face. Her dirty blonde hair frames her face perfectly, parting in the middle, making it seem like a curtain. Her vivid green eyes shine and I think I see a halo too.

Angel, I decide to call her.

I stare at Angel and she stares right back at me, intensely. She says something but I can't hear her. I attempt to read her lips but I fail miserably.

"Am I in heaven?" I manage to utter out, stupidly.

Angel bursts out into a fit of laughter and I rub my eyes, drowsily. Taking a second look at her, I realise it's Maya and I feel my blood rushing up to my cheeks. I blush even more when I realise that this is most likely showing on all TVs in Panem. _Well, that was stupid. _

"Maybe you should pass out more often," Maya says with an amused smirk.

I give her a flat look and reply, "Ha ha. What happened?"

"You don't remember?" She shoots me a concerned look, her eyebrows furrowing together in the middle of her forehead and her lips in a slight pout.

I close my eyes for a moment, racking my brain for any memories that I might have. The boy with brown eyes appears. His eyes are wide and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's pretty much paralysed with fear.

I swallow and open my eyes again. "I killed him."

"Yeah… You weren't looking at where you were going while you were running and dragging me along. We ran off the cliff face and pretty much fell about twenty yards. Thank God, your bag had the sleeping bags and blankets. Otherwise, you would've broken your back. I landed on top of you so I was fine. I dragged you into this cave. It's hidden pretty well. "

"How long have I been out?" I question.

"Uh… four days."

"Four days?" I repeat, incredulously.

How much have I missed in four days? That means it's day eight of the Games now. With only six tributes left in the games since I passed out, surely someone would have found us already; and at least, made an attempt to steal our goods.

"You haven't missed much," Maya assures me. "No one's died."

She hands me a bottle of water and I take a large swig, hydrating myself, then start eating the dried beef that lays on my backpack. "That means more mutts will come."

Maya nods in agreement. I use this chance to look around. We are surrounded by parachutes that are undoubtedly from the sponsors. There are at least eight around us. "Why do we have so many?"

She hesitates before saying, "One was for you - pills to keep you asleep and to relieve the pain. I think it's called morphine. Two had water and food. Three were for me and the other four… Well, I think you should look for yourself."

I manage to stand up with surprisingly not much difficulty, and I stagger awkwardly to the four leftover parachutes. I'm met with a sight that causes me to drop my jaw and widen my eyes. Sleek, long and thin, with three prongs sticking out one end of it. I take it out of the parachutes and run my hand across the weapon, in awe. "Wow," I murmur.

"I know right?" Maya says with a small grin. "Must have cost a fortune… Guess we know who the favourite of the Games is."

She's teasing, I hope. I really don't know what to say back to that, in case she really is serious and jealous. I finally avert my gaze from my most prized weapon and take a good look at her. Her dirty blonde hair is now matted down, courtesy to the Games. Those light green eyes which were once alive and full of energy, are now almost cold and defeated. Maya has definitely lost some weight due to the current circumstances, but I'm certain I have as well.

It is only now that I notice the gash that is present on her thigh. I suppose it's almost healed, considering the amount of parachutes she's received is more than enough for her to treat the wound. I can't help but frown. "What happened to your leg?"

"The girl from Six came across us while I was dragging you here," she shrugs. "She's not that strong. It must've been adrenaline or something but that was the only thing she did before she ran off."

"Does it still hurt?"

I want to smack myself over and over. Of _course _she's not okay.

She shakes her head. "Nah, I can run fine with this Capitol medicine, even with this injury. We should probably go look for some more food. I think the sponsor food is spoilt now."

After hearing this, I set down my food and straighten out my clothes, strapping the belt of knives across my waist. I decide to leave the jacket on too, despite the reasonably warm weather - just in case. I sling the backpack over my left shoulder, wincing slightly at how sore my back is from being unconscious for days. I grip the trident in my right hand, waiting for Maya to prepare her weapons.

I notice she only has one spear strapped to her back now, along with her backpack, excluding the sword. Wordlessly, I hand over three of my throwing knives. Just in case.

We spend around two hours walking around the rainforest, with no sense of direction. Other than us, there are still Carter and Indiana from District One, the girl from Six and the boy from Nine. Unless Districts Six and Nine have allied some time in the arena, the deadly pair from One is our main concern right now. They are undoubtedly the most threatening tributes left. Maya and I may have received a higher score in total, but they have trained their entire lives. They are brutal and probably lack humanity.

I let out a frustrated groan and throw my largest dagger down onto the ground. "I give up," I declare. We have been chasing after the same rabbit for at least the past fifteen minutes, and we simply cannot seem catch it. It's too fast for my knives.

"Me too," Maya pants out. "Let's take a break."

And we do.

It's silent for a minute or do and I relish this moment. The sounds of nature, without any human making a sound. It's perfect.

That is, until the girl from District Six leaps out from what was in front of us before. She was supposed to be a _rock_.

_What the hell, _I think, before I realise that she must be brilliant at camouflage.

The unnamed girl waves a dagger around wildly. Her eyes look out of it, like she's snapped or she's crazy and I suppose I don't blame her. I think _I'm _crazy, though I wouldn't be too shocked if I found out. I react a moment too late when an ear-piercing shriek erupts from Maya as the girl from Six drives her dagger back into the recently healed wound on her thigh.

With blinded rage, I charge at her. I should be able to win a battle against her, whether it's ranged or hand-to-hand. I received a ten in training and she received a mere five, I recall. I _should _win and I have to, but I find it incredibly uncomfortable battling against a girl who blends in with her surroundings. It's hard to even _spot_ her.

I manage to strike at her with my trident a few times, only for my swipes to result as brief skims or smacks. She ends up sprinting away, most likely to treat the minimal wounds she has, and when I wait for her to disappear from sight, before I turn back to Maya.

She breathes rapidly and unevenly, clutching desperately at her wound to stop the blood from flowing out her wound. Her face is scrunched up with pain and she bites her bottom lip so hard, that it starts bleeding. "Maya!" I exclaim, kneeling down next to her. She gasps and moans out in pain.

A parachute lands beside us and I immediately rush to empty out its contents: bandages and disinfectant. I unscrew the disinfectant cap, hastily.

"No," Maya says, firmly.

"No?" I echo.

"No. Don't bother."

"Why not?!" I cry out.

"Because one of us will have to die," she replies, weakly.

I almost gag and wretch at the sight of her blood oozing out freely, and I insist on pouring disinfectant on, as well as bandaging her leg up but she bats my hands away.

"We promised to be there for each other until the end!" I shout. I don't know if it's frustration or anger that gets the better of me but I know in the back of my mind that I shouldn't be screaming so loud. It would give away our location and I have also never shouted at her.

"And what if it becomes just the two of us?" she shoots back at me. "I don't want to kill you and I'm sure you won't want to kill me either!"

She's right. One of us will have to die. It's inevitable. I have the urge to break down and sob my heart out but I resist it. "But…"

"But nothing," she states, flatly as she attempts to stare me down. With the way she pants and grits her teeth, I can't take her seriously.

"Let me help you," I say.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, an arrow flies past me, planting itself deep into Maya's shin. Before we can react, another shoots through the air, hitting the side of her stomach. _Oh, no. _She lets out another piercing scream as we see the girl from Six disappear yet again.

"You can't… You can't help me now," Maya gasps.

"Yes, I can," I insist.

I don't know if I'm lying to her or myself. Arrows when released by bowstrings, easily pierce almost anything. Since the front of the shin has next to no fat, I know it's probably punctured into her bone. She'll die either from intense pain or blood less. Either way, they're slow and torturing deaths. With my dagger, I slice the protruding arrow from her skin so only a portion of it is in her leg. I decide to leave the arrow in her abdomen alone. I'll most likely tear her apart if I do that.

Maya's entire body tremors and her usually tanned skin, is slowly becoming paler and paler. "It hurts," she whimpers. "It hurts so much."

"I know, sweetheart."

My hands shake as I pour a few drops of disinfectant over the wound on her thigh and she shudders. I wind the bandage around her thigh multiple times, making sure it's tight enough, but not so tight that it cuts off her blood circulation. I move down to her shin and I stare at the blood and arrow, without a clue on what to do.

"Just leave it."

Her voice is so weak, and it makes my heart ache. "The sponsors can help."

Maya shakes her head and says, "It won't work. To get it out, you need doctors and it's a metal arrowhead. I'm going to die."

_I'm going to die. _

_She's going to die. _

This time, I'm the one shaking my head frantically. "No! You can't leave me alone!"

"It _hurts_, Finn."

"So you're just going to give up? What about Annie?"

"I'm not giving up. I'm accepting my fate." I want to laugh because even now, she's just as sensible and wise as she usually is.

She takes holds of the dagger from the inside of her jacket and presses it into my hand. "Do it."

"NO!"

"_Please_. It hurts so much," she begs. Her cheeks are now stained with cheeks and I can feel my own waterworks threatening to spill out of my eyes.

"No, Maya." My voice cracks and I realise how hoarse my voice has gotten. "I can't do it."

"You can."

"I _can't._"

"Please."

She lays on the ground, limply like a rag doll. Her face is tinted slightly green and she looks like the child I grew up with. No, she still _is _a child. Her hands are clenched into weak fists and she grimaces as if any effort to talk is painful. Her breathing comes out more ragged by the second. As much as I hate to admit it, the only way to save her is to put her out of her misery.

I clutch at the dagger tightly; so tightly that my knuckles turn white. I stare down at Maya for a long moment.

"I love you," she says as her eyes flutter closed.

"I love you too."

_Boom. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to Jay's Song for reviewing!**

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**VIII. The Boy With The Nets &amp; Tridents **

"I'm sorry, Annie."

My voice is hoarse from crying. I don't know how long it's been since the cannon has rung in my ears but it has felt like decades. Guilt and resentment pangs at my heart and I don't think I have ever produced so many tears at one time.

I gaze down at the deceased girl in front of me, her blue-green eyes wide open, void of emotion. Using my index and middle fingers, I gently close her eyelids. She looks like a kid who's fast asleep, with the exception of the lack of movement. She looks like the girl I met when I was six. I hold onto her hands and I feel like screaming when I finally realise how cold her body has become. Placing her hands over her chest, I kiss her on the forehead, and then the lips for a few seconds. It's District Four's way of acknowledging and respecting one's death.

Gathering my trident, knives and backpack, I walk backwards. I don't allow my sight to leave Maya until I trip over a tree root and after one last glance, I bolt off to the cave we had stayed in after our fall.

When I do arrive, it's past dusk. I create a similar cover as Maya and I had woven on the first day, covering up the entrance to my hiding place and I light a fire. The anthem sounds and I don't bother to look up. There has only been one cannon today, and it was Maya's. Thinking of her death makes me feel guiltier than I thought was even possible. _I murdered my own best friend_. What are Mother and Father thinking right now? Rhea… Poor Rhea. And _Annie_. She must be devastated, hurt and most likely _disgusted_ of my actions. I had failed to keep her promise.

I cry - no, I don't cry. I _sob_ my eyes out. I punch the walls of the cave several times out of anger and frustration. I'm mad at myself. I scream and I claw at my own hair, as if I'm trying to pull it out. I don't know how long I end up doing this for but by the time I am feel like I'll pass out, my knuckles are bleeding and I'm covered in scratches and bruises.

I end up crying myself to sleep. I know because when I wake up the next morning, my eyes are red and puffy, and it takes a great amount of effort to slightly open them. I ignore the stinging in my eyes and notice a parachute floating down. I quickly go and retrieve it. Inside there are alcoholic swabs, bandages and a bowl of sugar cubes. The ghost of a smile crawls onto my face as I pop one sugar cube into my mouth. "Thanks Mags," I mumble softly.

I spend the next hour or so, taking care of my bruises. I end up using small bandages for my knuckles and surprisingly, they don't hurt as much as I had predicted. I can move them around fine and I spend a while practicing to fight. I carve into different spots of the walls of my cave and throw knives at them, making sure I hit the target every single time, right in the centre. Then, I practise my stance and extension of the arm when wielding my trident. I stab at nothing but air and swipe, duck and roll around, improving my throws and close combat skills. I imagine that I stab at the girl from District Six and Carter from District One. I can't help feel a sense of bitterness, especially towards the girl.

Tugging at the flimsy piece of rope chained around my wrist, I realise that I honestly have nothing to do right now. I unfasten it and tie knots to take my mind off of Maya, and untie them. I continue the process over and over again, expertly. _Rope_.

Tying it back around my wrist, I run over the my backpack and notice that I still have the four lengths of rope. Tying and untying. I do that for several hours, I presume, until I finally come to my senses and decide to weave a net of my own. Maybe it was the shock of Maya's death that had caused my thinking to go a little fuzzy. Maybe I still am in shock, but different emotions have taken over.

Vengeance is what I feel I need now. The girl from Six will pay back for Maya's death.

Around noon, after a sufficient amount of mind-wandering and weaving, my net is finally complete and I sling it over my shoulder. I decide that I don't need my backpack anymore. The weather doesn't seem like it will change any time soon and I intend to get out of the arena today. If not, then tomorrow. But hopefully, sponsors will be able to help me if I last that long.

My knives are belted around my waist and I hook my bottle onto my waistband. I wield my trident and for the next few hours, I manage to set up seven traps around the arena, three around the Cornucopia. It would be of good use for the final bloodbath - or what others like to call, the _feast_.

The sound of a trap going off pulls me out of my thoughts and I hear the sounds of cursing from a male. I realise that it's the boy from Nine when I burst into the clearing. He hangs upside down with a string of rope around his ankle and torso, and he frantically hacks away at the ropes with one small dagger, to no avail. The unnamed boy lifts his head up when he hears me and his eyes are filled with dread and terror when they land on the trident. He screams out, begging to be let go but is cut off when I release my trident.

I hear the cracking of bones as they puncture his chest and the cannon booms almost instantaneously. I jerk my bloodstained weapon out of his flimsy body, ignoring the blood that pours out of the real holes I've created in his chest, and move on.

"District One and Six," I murmur quietly. "Here I come."

I wander around the arena, aimlessly. I don't bother hunting for food because Mags has sent me food every hour or so, with a few crackers and a bowl of soup. I imagine that Shelley would probably be looking out for me as well, and I can't help but feel grateful towards the both of them. My mind always wanders to Maya and her death. I can't ever stop thinking about it. Constantly, I'm trying to persuade myself that it was the girl from Six who had caused her death, but I end up telling myself that I was the one who ended her life. The girl was just the instigator. My bitterness towards the girl has only flourished as I grow impatient over the hours I walk around the arena.

"Attention, ladies and gentleman," Claudius Templesmith's voice resonates in the arena, "I am announcing the annual feast of this year's Hunger Games. It will be at the Cornucopia at dusk. Everything you need will be there. Good luck and may the odds _ever _be in your favour."

_Perfect_, I think to myself. Of course, there's nothing that we need except for going home.

* * *

It's dusk already.

I stay behind the mass of bushes that conceal anyone from the Cornucopia to see me and I wait. It's getting dark and soon it'll be hard to see. My heart pounds erratically in my chest. _This is it. _It's obvious that the four of us are waiting for someone to make the first move. I reckon either the girl from Six or Indiana will go first.

A parachute lands by my feet and I notice the night vision glasses that are supplied. _Thank God. _I slide them on and the Cornucopia is clearer than it was before and I notice the girl from Six on the other side of the clearing. As anticipated, she sprints towards the Cornucopia, towards the crate on the table that has recently been placed there and all hell breaks loose.

Mother always told me to think before I act but I push that piece of advice to the back of my mind and rush after her. She fidgets around with whatever's inside and dumps the entire crate onto the floor out of pent up frustration and turns to me. She knows she has to fight - it's the only way out for either of us. Her bow and quiver of arrows are gone, but she wields two daggers. As threatening as it may seem, I have at least six times the amount of knives she does, with the addition of my trident.

She's tall. Taller than me by two inches. Her eyes have a crazed look; it's almost like she's gone feral, a bit like a shark in the ocean. She bares her teeth at me and I almost shudder at the memory of Enobaria, the girl from District Two who had won three years ago, by ripping out her final opponent's jugular. _Please don't bite me, _I can't help but think.

"District Four," she spits out.

"District Six," I reply, plastering a smirk across my face.

We circle each other for a few moments, hesitant to make the first move. If she comes at me, I have an open shot and vice versa. We challenge each other, though we don't need words.

"So you killed your district partner, huh?" she says and shakes her head, in mock disappoint as her eyes gleam mischievously. "How disrespectful… I wonder how everyone back in Four think of you now."

Gritting my teeth, I manage to reply a "Shut up."

This time, she's the one smirking arrogantly. "Ohh, hit a nerve, have I?"

I lunge. I can't help it. A dagger in one hand and a trident in the other, I aim at her - anywhere, really, as long as it hurts and is enough to give her a moment's distraction. She's surprisingly strong for a tribute from District Six; I can give her that. I manage to slice at her collarbone, emitting a wince and hiss of pain from her but she stands her ground and after a millisecond, it's like nothing pained her. I release the knife and allow it to stay stuck in her collarbone, giving me an advantage to using my trident. I manoeuvre it around, effortlessly and it's evident that she's gotten outrageous from the injury and how I have a weapon I've already grown accustomed to before the Games.

"You're one lucky bastard," she snaps at me. "Using your looks and supposed charm to woo the Capitol. How _pathetic._"

I roll my eyes, unentertained. "How about less talk and more fight, sweetie?"

In an animalistic manner, she screams and lunges at me, waving her knifes around carelessly. I'm taken aback by her actions and I land on the ground with a _thud. _Pain shoots up my back and I groan. She has her knees on my elbows, with her feet pinning my wrists down to the ground, forcing my grip to loosen around my trident. The girl smiles maliciously at me and brings the larger of her knives up to my chest.

All of a sudden, it's broad daylight and I struggle to knock my night vision goggles off. The Gamemakers have made it day time again. I hear a pair of footsteps near us and noticing that the girl has also heard, I use this distraction to my advantage and as ridiculous as it is, I bring my head back and smash it against hers. It hurts but it's worth her stumbling off me and it gives me enough time to grab my trident. Mustering as much force as I can, I slam my fist into her stomach and within seconds, she's hunched over, wheezing and gasping for her. While she's holding onto her head and stomach with a grimace, I see Carter and Indiana gaining ground on us. Pulling a dagger out of my belt, I thrust it forward into the small of her back and watch her collapse onto the ground.

"Not bad, Pretty Boy."

I whip my head around to see the pair from District One. My blood runs cold when I realise I'm outnumbered. Indiana has her axes and Carter has his sword. I'm screwed. Running would only result in receiving an axe in my back, most likely splitting me in half horizontally, so I decide to stay and fight.

Carter eyes my trident and whistles, "So _that's _where all the sponsor money went to. You know, I was wondering why _nobody _else seemed to have any kinds of sponsor gift and then it finally dawned on me. _You _and your goddamned district partner."

I stand up straight, though I'm still shorter than him by a good three or so inches and cock my head to the side, grinning. "You got a problem with that?"

His eyes gleam oddly and it's fairly obvious that he's bloodthirsty. "Not anymore."

With that being said, he charges at me with his sword raised, while Indiana stays on the sidelines. _Unusual. _I sidestep a millisecond two late and I'm rewarded with a graze on the left side of my torso. Bringing my trident up in a defensive stance, I'm forced to reel backwards as our weapons clang against each other. He snarls at me and now Indiana decides to join in.

With every ounce of strength I have, I push my trident against Carter's sword, hard enough to cause both him and Indiana to falter, giving me the chance to run. While they stagger to their feet and regain their balance, I bolt away from the Cornucopia and to my traps. I burst into the familiar clearing and press myself against the thick trunk of the largest tree, trying to keep my breathing under control.

_Deep breaths, Finnick. _

The rustling of footsteps against the forest floor causes me to instinctively freeze in my spot and hold my breath.

"Where is he?" Indiana demands.

"How the fuck would I know?" Carter growls, "He came this direction though."

With my left hand, I take out another dagger and whip out from behind the tree trunk, plunging it into his stomach. His sword clatters to the ground and he staggers back in shock. Carter's hand covers the wound I've made and blood is quickly leaking out from his stomach, coating his fingers. Indiana's scream of rage brings me to my senses and I barely have the time to defend myself.

I let out a cry of pain when the metal of her axe digs into my upper thigh. I kick at her with my other leg with an amount strength I had no idea I had, effectively flinging her across about ten yards. I hiss in pain when I attempt to stand back up and I need to limp on my right foot.

A large, masculine hand snakes around my ankle, yanking me down onto the ground. _Carter_. Of course he isn't dead. While Indiana recovers, I grip onto my trident and flip over one hundred and eighty degrees, extending it forward. The prongs of the trident land right on their marks - the two outer ones stick into his eyes and the middle prong stabs his nose. For a few seconds, he gurgles and splutters his blood onto himself weakly before the cannon sounds.

"Well, it's just you and me now, _Odair._"

My blood run colds when I realise that I'm completely vulnerable. She stands above me, wielding her pair of twin axes. _'I'm done for sure,'_ I think to myself. I kick her in the shin - it was a move Father had told me that could stop one from walking for a little while. Pulling my trident out of Carter's bloody face, I point it upwards towards the handles of her axes and capture them between the prongs. Twisting and tugging, I manage to muster enough strength to free her of her weapons along with my trident.

We roll on the ground, grappling at each other and clawing at each other's skin. Her nails dig into my cheekbones. They're long and sharp enough to cut through my skin and she presses her knee against the gash on my thigh. Being trained professionally ever since she was probably ten, she distinctly has an advantage on her for hand-to-hand combat, despite the fact she's shorter than me. All I have been taught is a few punches, which have only worked on Six's girl who was undoubtedly not as strong as Indiana.

With one hand digging into her shoulder's pressure point, I use my other hand to grab the roots of her hair and pull. She releases a shout and spits onto me, applying more pressure onto my thigh. I grunt and growl, writhing underneath her body.

Within a mere three seconds, she has me pinned down to the ground, immobilised. Indiana straddles my waist and with her hands on my wrist, she leans down to whisper in my ear, "We should give the audience a good show, shouldn't we?"

It's almost like a seductive purr - heck, it probably _would _be if it weren't for the circumstances but now, it was disgusting. She smiles down at me like an angel. _'An angel of death,' _I think to myself, bitterly.

Two can play this game.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and bring my face closer to hers. Being only fourteen, I have had next to no experience with girls in a romantic or intimate way, so I decided to go along with my instincts. "And how do you propose to do that?" I bite my bottom lip and raise an eyebrow, suggestively.

With a coy grin, Indiana brushes her lips, occasionally licking along the lobe of my ear, down my bruised cheek, along my jaw and down where my jugular is situated. I almost cringe at her ministrations but I allow her to do it anyway. If she thinks I'm submissive, let her think that. The seductive actress from District One, as Shelley had warned Maya and I. _God, I wonder what my family will be thinking._

Her blonde - almost white - hair covers her face creating what seems to be a mini cave around our faces. Her hand slides its way up beneath my shirt, snaking its way from my lower abdomen to my chest. I can't help but grimace in disgust. She's what - eighteen? Surely, she should know how ineffective something like this would be. _  
_

Out of my peripheral vision, I take note of my trident, which lays only one yard away with the fork-like prongs turned away from me. I formulate a plan in my head; it's dangerous but a plan, nonetheless and I can only prayed to whatever Gods that are out there, that the fates will go my way.

Ignoring the intensifying pain on my thigh, I flip us over so I'm the one on top. I can see it in her eyes; she's triumphant, thinking that I have fallen under her charm. I haven't had my first kiss yet, and I don't intend to offer it up to my enemy. I give her a wink and brush my own lips up and down my neck, imitating her earlier actions. Ignoring how disturbing my own ministrations are, I slither my hand up her shirt, groping at her stomach and chest. When I notice that her eyes have been closed for a while, I use my free hand to grip onto the end of my trident and lift my head up. Our foreheads are almost touching and we're breathing on each other's lips.

"It's a shame we're in the arena right now," I purr into her ear. "We would have been _great _friends, otherwise..."

Her eyes finally snap open with what I suppose to have a seductive gleam and she smiles, flirtatiously at me. I lean back so this time, I'm the one straddling her waist. She realises what I'm about to do a little too late and her protests die down when the deadly end of my trident crash into her ribs, piercing her heart.

_Boom. _

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you the victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games - Finnick Odair!"

* * *

**A/N: His games are finally over! The upcoming years won't be in as much detail until the 75th Games. I'm thinking when I'm around twelve chapters or so into this story, I'll start Gloss' story.**

**Please don't forget to read and review :) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to MsMKT68 and Guest for reviewing! :) **

**I apologise for the lack of updates lately and this not-so-eventful chapter might not make up for it, but I hope it's okay. **

* * *

**IX. After **

I spend the next few hours drifting in and out of consciousness. Well… when I _am _conscious, I'm pretty sure that I'm only half awake. It's impossible tell when my body is constantly being prodded with the medical process I need to undergo. I've been injected with who knows how many liquids and I feel like my entire body is bloating. My eyelids droop and I've been told that I've been hooked on a small amount of morphine, so I won't feel the pain in my leg.

When I'm asleep, I can only see the faces of the boy with brown eyes, the girl from District Twelve who was strangled to death, and the pair from District One. I almost punch a male nurse. I pack a weak punch right now, being mostly immobilised and pinned onto the bed. Yet another liquid is injected into my system and I let out a weak groan in response, before my vision turns black.

I finally wake without the buzzing of machines and nurses around me and I almost scream in relief._ Almost_. I don't when I notice the old lady who sits next to me, watching me with a gummy smile.

"Mags," I manage to croak out. Stumbling off my bed and ignoring the slight pain in my leg, I hug her. I hug her like it's the last hug I'll ever receive and the world will end tomorrow. "Thank you."

"I told you that you could do it," she says, proudly, "And you did it." Her light green eyes stare right through my soul.

"_Maya_."

I end up sobbing in her arms as she runs her fingers through my hair and stays there, patiently. I can't be more grateful for her than I already am. "I know, honey," she replies, "But it's not your fault."

"Yes, it _is._"

"No, Finnick. Don't you ever think that. It was her choice," she scolds me. "Don't think for a second that it's your fault. As hard as it is to do so, she'd want you to move on. You didn't do it because you wanted to so there's nothing to feel guilty about."

I'm about to reply but someone clears their throat behind us. I turn around and see Shelley, who looks at me with a sad smile. "I really hate to interrupt but Finnick, your prep team is waiting for you. Your crowning's tonight."

Pulling away from Mags, I rub my eyes and nod. "Okay."

"Good job, Finnick."

The moment I step out into the hallway, I'm bombarded and escorted to another building by Cartia, Ellina and Aurora. They chirp, happily and gush over how well I did in the arena. I allow their words to sink in but my mind is some place else.

"You were absolutely _brilliant_, Finnick!"

"When you and Maya messed around by the river in only your underwear," one of them giggles, "that set the sponsor money soaring."

"Stunning as always, Finn."

"I bet your parents are proud of you."

Within a few hours, I'm dressed in an outfit that is almost identical to the one I wore for the interviews. The only difference is that the white transparent shirt is now a pale shade of green.

"You look gorgeous, Finnick," Tatiana smiles at me. "Make them proud and don't express your emotions too much. Nobody wants to see a Victor cry on stage."

I'm almost offended by this statement. She thinks I'm crazy, doesn't she? Maybe I am; maybe I'm just a Victor who has become a lunatic.

"You think I'll cry?" I ask. My voice cracks slightly.

She shakes her head, rapidly. "No, no, of course not. It's happened a few times before and the audience never like it - not in the Capitol anyway. You're strong," she says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt. "I know you can do this. Watch it but block it all out. You barely have to say anything tonight."

The next three hours are torturous. I'm forced to watch myself. The replay begins with the reapings, with District Four being shown in detail. I watch Maya volunteer for poor Rhea, and I watch myself walk up the stage after my name is called. Then, it's the Opening Ceremonies. The roars of the crowd, both on and off screen, erupt and almost deafen me. The smile I have plastered on my face when I'm on the chariot is so _genuine_. I wonder if I'll ever be able to smile genuinely again.

My training score of Ten pops up on the screen, along with my grinning face, and then it's the interviews - the interviews where Maya and I had won the entire crowd over. The bloodbath begins and I force a smirk upon my lips, as I watch myself take over the Cornucopia and as Maya shoves three tributes into the initial swamp. It fast forwards a bit, until we're against the two boys with the mace and sickle and more cheering roars in my ears as Maya and I make the final blows.

I hear a few giggles and chuckles when the scene of Maya and I in our undergarments appear on screen. And then, we're walking around. We're running for our lives, away from the mutt-like vines, and the girl from Twelve is suffocated. I watch myself murder the boy with the brown eyes and run off the cliff after being chased by snakes, cringing. Our fall seems to last barely a second, contrasting from the years it felt like to actually plunder down. I grimace as I watch Maya taking care of me. She saved me but I couldn't save her. _  
_

It seems like I never cease to disappoint myself.

When I finally wake up in the video, it is shown that the girl from Six had constantly been stalking us and I clench my fists by my sides. My nails dig into my palm, creating crescent indents into my skin, and I have to force myself to not remove my eyes from the big screen. Watching myself kill Maya… I never want to see it ever again. I watch myself train for a few hours and then make nets and traps, before the final bloodbath.

I feel no guilt or remorse when I see myself stabbing the girl from Six, though I know that she didn't deserve that. Killing Carter wasn't pleasant either. And then, it was just me and Indiana, who had the supposed gift of sexual appeal.

I notice that the two of us are almost like we're playing a game, as we both seduce each other in an attempt to kill the other. I must say it was interesting, yet also disturbing to watch such a scene. Within seconds, my trident is sticking out of her chest and I'm announced the Victor.

"Give it up for your victor, Finnick Odair!" Caesar screams into his microphone and I force myself to smile. Women scream and men cheer. It looks like they're trying to trample over each other. As the anthem plays, President Snow walks up to me and places the crown on my head. I've never noticed before, but I now see how his eyes are like those of a snake's. An _evil _snake. They're like pits of nothing but evil. When he breathes out, my eyes water as I'm overwhelmed by the stench of roses and blood. He gives me a mere nod and walks out.

When it's finally, I'm dragged to what seems to be a party for the Victors, by a mass of golden blonde hair. It's Cashmere who drags me along; she's the girl who won last year, right after her brother, Gloss. They're only seventeen, I think. She offers me a kind smile and explains, "After the interviews, there's usually a party for the mentors and the new Victor. Welcome to the family."

_Family._

I guess we're a family…

"Hey, Delgado!" shouts a man from District Two. Drakula Hook. "Where's your dear brother?"

"Got a meeting," she replies, shooting him a glare.

He snickers, as if he's amusing himself. "Being a Capitol whore again, Cashy?"

With another menacing glare, she digs her nails into my arm and storms off, dragging me along. "I'm sorry about that," she apologises, bitterly.

"It's fine."

Scanning across the other faces in the room, I recognise a few of the victors. There's Mags, Shelley and Cashmere, of course, as well as Lyme, Blight, Cecelia, Chaff who only has one hand and Haymitch who is unsurprisingly, a drunken mess. "Congratulations, kid," he slurs. "Have a nice life." With that, he downs another glass of alcohol and bursts into a random fit of laughter.

I don't remember much of what happens for the rest of the night. I only know that I downed a few shots of vodka and danced around like nothing else mattered. My head pounds when I wake up the next morning and I find myself throwing up in the bathroom.

_How pleasant_.

A tinkle of laughter erupts from the doorway and I realise that it's Cashmere.

"Is it _always _like this?" I ask, rubbing my temples.

She screams at me, "You'll get used to it eventually."

I emit a groan. "Stop shouting."

She laughs again and hands me two pills and a glass of water. "Take this," she says, quietly, "It'll help."

It takes a few minutes for the effects to kick in and I can successfully brush my teeth after this. "Where am I?" I question.

"District One level," she replies, looking a little amused. "Why else would I be here?"

I shrug. By the looks of things, Cashmere is nice; a little _too _nice for a Career. "You told Indiana to seduce me, didn't you?" I accuse, before I can even think.

_Goddamnit, I need think before I say or do._

She shakes her head. "No… She did that herself. I advised her not to do it and look where that ended up, huh?" She releases a bitter laugh. "I was told to do it last year but that backfired. I couldn't do it because I felt too guilty… I know what you're thinking, Finnick. A girl from District One who thought twice about killing someone? Unheard of, right?"

This time, I'm the one who shakes my head. "No, no… It's actually a bit nice, I guess, to have someone understand."

There's always Mags, but she's an old lady. I don't want to ever tire her speech out or anything. Cashmere is only two and a half years older, so she'd probably remember a lot more than Mags. It's not that I don't want Mags around - heck, I would love that - but she's already done so much for me.

Cashmere smiles at me, showing off her pearly white teeth. "You have Mags and Shelley; they're nice. If you're ever in the Capitol, you can always come to Gloss and I. We have to come every year so you won't miss us."

"Thanks," I say. I find it a little weird that she's giving me advice and comforting me but… I'll take it anyway.

She shoves my shoulder, not enough to hurt, and says, "Now get lost. You have an interview tonight."

I allow myself to go back to my cocky Capitol self and grin. "Don't miss me too much."

Once again, I'm scrubbed, waxed, rubbed and prodded at by my prep team. This time, I'm dressed in an ordinary, white V-neck shirt, with and sea green blazer that has been rolled up to my elbows, along with some black skinny jeans. Thank God, the Capitol _does _in fact, have normal clothes.

According to Mags, my so-called bonding with Cashmere has brought me a little out of my shell. Apparently, it's her specialty, but who am I to question it?

Throughout the entire interview, I flirt, wink and act charming. It isn't as hard anymore - I've grown used to it. Most of the questions are simple and easy to answer. What was running through the bloodbath… if you could call it a bloodbath, that is? What was it like to know that you've won?

"How do you… feel about Maya?" Caesar asks me, curiously. And to think that I was hoping to avoid this subject…

I swallow nervously and clasp my hands together. "Well… Of course, I love her. She meant the world to me and still does. I just hope she's in a better place now." I stop myself. I know that if I continue, I'll end up rambling and crying, and of course, that's an extremely petty sight for the world to see.

"Ah," he nods pitifully. "It's a shame. She loved you so much… You would have made such a fantastic couple, don't you think?"

I feel my eyes bulging at this. "What?!" I explode. "We-We're not… Maya and I- We're… I mean…"

Caesars laughs good-naturedly and says, "Didn't you notice that she was in love with you?"

I freeze in my spot and my jaw drops a little. "W-what?" I stutter. My eyes drift to where the Victors sit. Cashmere isn't there but her brother is. He looks at me with pity, evident in his eyes, as do Mags and Shelley.

"I'm sorry, Finnick," he apologises. "I thought you knew."

I shake my head, "I didn't…"

I assume that he notices my discomfort and he announces, "Well, that's all for today! Once again, give it up for Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games."

The crowd roars again but I'm numb. I barely notice that my own feet are carrying myself offstage and I almost collapse against a wall.

_How did I not know?_

* * *

**A/N: Bet you didn't see that coming, eh? ;) I hope this chapter was okay. Please review your thoughts! They really do encourage to write more :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you to MsMKT68 and PrincessFabala for reviewing! It means a lot :) **

**From this chapter on until the rebellion, a lot of the plot line will be focused on Finnick's relationship with his sister, Rhea and Annie. Also, keep in mind that while Finnick may be 14, Annie is still 12. They won't be together for a while. **

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**X. Alone Together **

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it _is_."

"Finnick," Mags starts off. "Did you tell Maya to fall in love with you."

I shake my head, uncertainly. _Where was this heading? _"No."

"Did you kill her because you wanted to?"

I shake my head once again.

"Then it's not your fault."

I don't bother saying anything back. There's no point since I can never win an argument against her; maybe it's because I'm only one fifth of her age, or maybe it's just because she's that stubborn. Either way, I love her like my own grandmother now.

The rest of the return trip back is silent. I throw a small ball at my ceiling and catch it, repeatedly. It's like knotting - it keeps my mind off anything and it distracts me. I can't knot anything anymore. The flimsy string of rope that Annie gave me is so tattered that it is barely secured around my wrist anymore.

A knock on the door removes me from my thoughts and Mags hobbles in. "We arrive in five minutes." Looking outside the window, I can see the ocean off in the distance. The thought of being back transports me into another state of overwhelming homesickness.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "What do I do?" I ask her, standing up from the bed.

"Smile and wave like nothing happened. Don't say anything bad," she warns.

"What about Annie?"

She smiles sadly, "I don't know her like you do. We'll have to see when we get there."

"But… I don't _know_ her." And I really don't. Sure, I know her full name and her favourite colour is green, and that she's a quiet girl who hangs out with my sister, but that's all. She blocks me out whenever I had tried to strike up a conversation with her.

I'm blinded with flashing lights and deafened by cheers as the train slows down at the stop in District Four. All I see is bright light and flashes of brightly coloured Capitol people outside, screaming my name at the top of their lungs.

Mags and Shelly each take hold of one of my hands. "Smile and ignore them."

When the door opens, it's overwhelming. Claustrophobia has never been an issue for me but right now, I'm being swarmed by dozens and dozens of unfamiliar men and women from the Capitol, who I have never seen before. The clicking of cameras is all I hear for a moment and I feel as if I'm being pushed through the crowd, rather than walking by myself.

I almost fall out of the crowd and as I just manage to regain my balance, I'm swept off my feet once again and I'm engulfed by a pair of long, feminine arms. "Finnick!"

"Mom!" I cry out, burying my head in the crook of her neck. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she croaks out. I can feel her tears against my own skin and she hiccups. Pulling back, Mother holds onto my cheeks and it's now that I realise how much she really missed me. A lot would be an understatement. "I am so proud of you, Finn," she says softly and kisses my forehead. Though she speaks so softly, I can hear her over the screeches that erupt from behind us.

"Good job, son." Father's hand clamps down on my shoulder and he nods at me, proudly.

"Thank you," I reply, nodding back stiffly. I almost let out a gasp in surprise as he lifts me off my feet. I feel like a rag doll in his arms and it's like he's crushing my bones with every squeeze.

"FINNICK!"

I'm let down and I run towards the girl who screamed. "Rhea!" I laugh and engulf her in my arms. She squeals, delightfully and hugs me back. "You came back!"

"I told you I would."

"You were amazing! I wanna be like you one day."

"No, Rhea," I scold. "You don't."

She pulls back and gazes at me, almost admiringly. "Why not?"

"Because I say so."

* * *

I refuse to live in the Victors' Village. It's not my home and I already have the luxury of the abundant amount of money I've been rewarded. Unfortunately, I don't have a choice. My parents are taking in Annie. Our old home is too small - five people would be a crowd.

Speaking of Annie, the only glimpse I had of her was when we locked eyes after I was reunited with Rhea, and she had run away in the opposite direction. I want to so badly go up to her and apologise but do I really know what to say to her?

I manage to persuade my parents to take the largest bedroom in the house and I take the second largest, with Rhea next door to me. We decide that Annie will sleep in the room opposite mine.

"Looks like we're neighbours," Shelley walks up the stairs, holding one of our boxes. "Mags is right opposite you and next to her is Joseph Aelous."

"Joseph?" I repeat.

"He won nine years ago - our most current victor, aside from you. It's been a while since District Four has had any Victors. He won when you were four? Five? You probably wouldn't remember."

"How did he win?"

"Sponsors, just like you. He was only a few months older than you when he won and he managed to win the crowd over. He was a Career too."

I nod. "Explains."

We both set out respective boxes down onto the hard floorboards. Shelley hands me a sheet of paper and an envelope. "These are for you. Give the envelope to Annie."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Letters to you two. Maya wrote them one night in the Capitol just in case she didn't come back. I'll see you later."

When the door closes behind her, I run my index finger along the edge of the letter that has been addressed to me. I hesitate before unfolding it, then think, _Screw it_. Getting it over with earlier would be better than leaving it until later.

_Dear Finn, _

_I'm assuming you're the Victor now, since you're reading this, or maybe you're Shelley because you're nosy. Well… Congratulations on being the victor. _

_I'm writing this letter to tell you a few things that I need you to know. First thing's first. Don't feel guilty. _Please_. I know you, Finn and I know that you'll be feeling guilty that I didn't make it out of the arena. What if I won and I was feeling guilty? Would you want me to feel like that?_

_I presume I'm dead by now because I saved you and for that, I don't regret it. I'm just happy that you're alive and at home safe. My plan was to get you out safe the entire time and I'm glad it worked. I know you promised Annie that you would try your hardest to get me out of the arena and I have no doubt that you did that, but I have accepted my death with open arms. I hope it was a quick death I had. __Don't forget our promise, Finn._

_Take care of Annie for me, please. It was part of our promise. I know it's a lot to ask for but… she has no one else for her, especially family. Take her into your Victor's house and I'll love you for forever and a day. Train her - Rhea, as well. You never know if they'll be reaped or not, and better safe than sorry, no? Teach them how to net, use spears, tridents, knives, and everything you know. I don't want you to waste money, paying for their training at the center. You'll be a mentor anyway, so you'll be a better teacher. Train them privately; I trust you with my whole life to do so. _

_Rhea's a sweet little girl, huh? Take care of your family for me, Finn. You know I love them like my own family. Be good. _

_One last thing, Finn… I love you. It's funny, huh? It's funny how our parents would always talk about the two of us being together, growing up and falling in love - and I did in fact, fall in love with you. I never expected it but… I can't control my emotions, I guess. I don't expect you to feel the same way about me. I just thought you had a right to know about this. _

_I want you to remember me, but to not wallow over me. I love you more than you will ever know. _

_Maya_

I love you too, Maya.

* * *

I cry myself to sleep that night. I toss and turn during my sleep. I dream of Maya and I - what we could have been if it weren't for the Games. We got married, had kids and died together. It was the perfect love story, no? Rhea grew up to be a beautiful woman, and married a charming guy, as did Annie. I made friends with a few guys from school. Life was generally… perfect; everything I could have dreamt of.

And then, _he _appears. The boy with the brown eyes stands before me with an accusing glare. "You killed me."

"I-I'm so sorry," I manage to stutter out. "I didn't mean to."

He's joined by Carter, Indiana, the boy from Three and the girl from Twelve who was suffocated. Even in my dream, she is sickly thin.

"Why are you guys here?" I whisper.

"Because you killed us," Indiana replies. Carter raises the bloodied sword he had wielded in the arena and steps forward. Then, he thrusts the blade out towards me.

I wake up, screaming, with tear tracks staining my cheeks. _It was just a dream, _I think to myself. I don't even know if it can be considered a dream. It was almost like a nightmare to me, even the first half of it. My heart rate accelerates when my door creaks open a little, and I swear, I almost have a panic attack.

"Who's there?" I question the darkness, frantically.

"It's me."

_Annie_.

"Oh…," I say. "What are you doing up?"

She twiddles with her thumbs and purses her lips. "You were screaming."

"I'm sorry I woke you up," I apologise, honestly.

"It's fine… Are you okay?"

"Yes."

A lapse of silence comes upon us. It seems as if every conversation we have is tense and awkward, though I don't think either of us can really help it.

"Do you hate me?" I ask her, ashamed with myself. Of _course _she hates me. Why wouldn't she? I murdered her older sister.

But she surprises me. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because what you did was the only way to stop her from feeling the pain. I just hate that _you_ came back, not her."

And those words stab me in the gut harder than I expect.

* * *

**A/N: Short? Yes. Proud of it? Meh. I don't particularly like this chapter but I really hope it's okay. Please review your thoughts! :) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you to Odestalovebaby, MsMKT68 and Joe for reviewing! It means a lot :) **

**Sorry for the delay - I've had a bit of writer's block. **

* * *

**XI. Little Girl**

"Come _on_!" I shout at the girls.

"We're trying, Finn!" Rhea screams back, panting wildly. "We're only human."

They're only twelve. I shouldn't be pushing them to run four miles up and down the coastline, continuously, but I am. I have the fact that they're only twelve and have their limits, but I push them anyway. Their hair is matted down to the foreheads and they are soaked to the skin, drenched in sweat, and they're exhausted. Annie even looks like she's about to have an asthma attack. What is _wrong _with me?

No, wait. I'm doing this for Maya.

I breathe out a frustrated sigh and say, "Okay, okay. Stop. That's enough training for today."

"Thank _God_," Rhea huffs out, collapsing onto the sand. "I don't think I can feel any of my bones anymore."

It's been two months since my victory and I have trained the girls every single day. I haven't taught them anything with weapons yet, though. I make sure their strength, speed and stamina grow first. They do push ups, sit ups and plank. They run, swim and climb. They do so until their muscles scream in protest, and I do these exercises with them to make them feel better, I guess. I do in fact, end up waking up with a sore body most times.

"Well, consider this as two lessons in one since we won't be doing anything tomorrow."

Tomorrow's her birthday. She'll be thirteen and not a little girl anymore. Actually, she'll always be a small girl to me; it's just that she'll grow up and become more independent.

"You are so lucky that I'm not as strong as you," she snarls, with a playful glint in her eyes.

I roll my eyes at her, only just noticing that Annie has deserted us, once again. "Where'd she go?"

Rhea shrugs. "Where she usually goes."

"Where's that?"

She raises an eyebrow at me, as if she's trying to say, _'Are you serious?'_.

"Over there." She lifts her hand up and points at a tiny silhouette, jumping over rocks and then entering a small cave. "She goes there everyday, ever since you were… reaped. Sometimes, she stays there for hours and doesn't come home until the next day. Haven't you noticed?"

I shake my head in guilt and confusion. _You're so stupid, Finnick. How did you not realise? _I smack myself in the head. "I'll go talk to her."

She looks at me in doubt. "Are you sure? It probably won't work…"

I run. I run towards the cave, despite my protesting muscles and I am brought back to when I was in the Games again. The natural wildlife surrounds me and the rush of the wind whips at my clothes. I clumsily trip over my own feet a few times and the newfound rush of adrenaline pumps through my veins, once again. I kick small pebbles off the small path, and they skid across the calm water beneath me, creating small ripples every now and then.

I arrive at the cave and I notice how similar it looks to the cave I had hid in during the Games with Maya. I think my heart skips a beat for a moment, before I venture on further, and step inside the cave. Contrary to what I had initially thought, the cave is bright. It isn't dark and wet, or intimidating in any way. It looks like a small hide-out, and I guess that _is _in fact, what it is.

"Annie?" I call out.

She sits there on the ground, cross-legged, staring out at the sea. Her hair is bedraggled and messed up from all the training she'd previously done. Her vivid green eyes are wide and teary, as they stay fixed on the water. "Come back… _please_."

"Annie," I repeat.

She lifts her head up and glances at me for a split second, before looking away. Her hair acts like a curtain and covers her face from me.

"Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Come on, talk to me."

Silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?" My voice cracks, like I'm going through puberty again. I don't expect her to reply to me, but I just hope that she will for once, talk to me. The last time she did was when she told me that she hated that fact that I came home. It hurt - a lot - but I had at least, expected for her to greet me every once in a while. But _no_, she didn't. The only times she would ever acknowledge me anymore was during training, and it would only be listening to me.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "_Annie_, would you please say something? I know you hate that I came back but… I need to know you're okay."

I'm stuck in another silence again and I don't know what to do, as I watch her stare off into what seems to be her own faraway land.

My patience wears thin and I release a frustrated huff. "Whatever. It's Rhea's birthday tomorrow and you'd better be there to make her happy."

* * *

"I don't know what to do, Mags," I say, "She just won't say anything!"

"It's hard for her to forgive," Mags replies. "Just give her some time and she'll come round."

"And how long will that be?"

"Maybes days, months… Maybe even years."

"Well, gee, doesn't this make me feel good," I say, sarcastically.

"Finnick, dear, even if it does take a long time, she'll forgive you and she'll talk to you again," she advises. "She's only twelve. She's young and she lost her sister. What do you expect her to do?"

"I… I don't know."

It feels as if there's a huge weight on my chest and it _hurts_. Maybe not physically, but it definitely hurts emotionally. I just cannot help but wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I'm completely out of my mind, because every time my eyes find Annie, I find myself growing incredibly irritated at her. Despite the friendly affection I feel for her, I… _dislike _her at times - most of the time, actually.

"She's so… annoying," I manage to say and I groan at the thought of her.

I'm rewarded with a painful pinch to the ear and I yelp in pain. How does one old lady just do that? "Don't say that," Mags reprimands me. "That is so rude, especially for a twelve year old girl."

"But I can't help it," I whine. I feel like an immature child but screw that. I'll say whatever I want.

She pats my cheek, affectionately, and smiles a gummy smile at me. "I know. Go celebrate Rhea's birthday. You deserve some fun."

I nod and stand up, kissing her cheek. She returns back to her knitting on the front porch and I walk up with a smile. She and Rhea have grown quite fond of each other and I can't help but feel grateful for this. Even my mother hangs out with her sometimes, when she's lonely.

When I walk in and notice the birthday girl, I charge at her with an almost inhumane speed and lift her off her feet. "Happy birthday, Rhea!" I rub my knuckles against her scalp, affectionately, despite her laughing protests.

"You're growing old," I tease her.

"Says you," she shoots back. "You're older than me."

"Pshh, not by much. What are you doing today?"

She pulls back from me and says, "I don't know… Nothing big. We can stay home and play game by ourselves."

Surprised by her response, I frown. "Really? I thought you'd want to hang out with all your friends."

Hurt flickers across her eyes. "You-you don't want to stay with me?"

I shake my head, rapidly. "No, no, it's not that. I just don't see what's so good about spending the day with me. It's your birthday; you should have fun." I smile at her and kiss her forehead.

"Well, too bad," she says, stubbornly. "I wanna hang out with you."

For the next few hours, we pig out. We raid through our kitchen, and shovel junk food down our throats and we don't mind the fact that there's no cake this year. Mother and Father sit by us, looking after us and smiling along. It feels like nothing had happened over the past few months and I refuse to allow myself to think of Maya, just this once. I know for a fact, that she's worrying about Annie and upset that she still hasn't shown up yet, but she covers it up fairly well.

We reminisce over the old days where we would swim out at the beach, tell each other stories about school, and where we made up our own games. We replay them. We laugh and it is only now that I realise how much I've missed this… Being a part of a family.

At around four o'clock, Annie walks into the house in a timid manner. She cowers slightly, with her arms crossed across her chest. "Happy birthday, Rhea," she smiles at my sister and hugs her.

"Thanks."

I had doubted Annie a lot, but I guess she really did come and for that, I'm not as annoyed at her anymore… Maybe, just a little.

* * *

**A/N: I thought it'd be nice for Finnick and Rhea to have a nice brother-sister time even at such a young age :) I'll be fast forwarding the next chapter to the Victory Tour. ****Don't forget to read and review your thoughts!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you to Odestalovebaby, AnnaMariaNordlade, X The mad girl back home X and the Guest for reviewing! :) **

**Annie is NOT in love with Finnick; not yet, anyway. She's only 12, so… I personally think 12 is a little too young for love. I mean, crushes are fine but "in love" seems a bit unusual for a 12 year old. **

* * *

**XII. **

"Are you freaking kidding me?" I mutter under my breath, as my fingers fumble over the knots I'm trying tie and untie. Unfortunately, my netting skills have gone down the drain ever since the Games five months ago, and this is the first time I've even attempted tying anything up.

"You alright there, son?" Father calls out from the upper deck.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I can feel my eyebrows furrow in concentration, creasing in the middle of my forehead. One droplet of sweat drips down from the side of my head and my hands shake. Throwing the piece of rope down in utter frustration, I let out an irritated huff. I can still master the simple knots I have known since I was six years old, but it is just this _one _knot that I cannot seem to complete, and it gives me the urge to rip my own hair out.

"Just keep trying," Father had said to me. "You'll only learn if you teach yourself, the second time round."

And I tried. I have tried so hard, that the tips of my fingertips are now flaming red and I can feel the blisters starting to form.

Giving up, I lay back on the deck, supporting my body's weight by leaning back on my elbows and stared out at sea. It isn't often that I come out fishing with my father and his mates anymore. I spend most of my time at home, now, with Rhea, Mags and Dean, Amphitrite Lasonga's son. In addition to my parents, they are the only ones who celebrated my fifteenth birthday, two months ago. Amphitrite is yet another person who I've grown close to over the past few months. Living only two houses away, she raises her seventeen-year old son, single-handedly, and when Mags isn't available, she's always there. She had won the 36th Hunger Games as a Career. She's quite cool for a forty-seven year old women.

The water is rough and choppy today, but I don't mind it. I cherish the time I'm at sea and I feel at _home. _My arms feel as if they're about to fall off, after hauling large masses of fish up onto our boat.

Before I know it, we're near the docks already and for a moment, I see Carter staring back at me, sword in hand and grinning maliciously. After blinking for a few times, he disappears and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Even after the seemingly long period of five months, my hallucinations and nightmares haven't shown the slightest trace of disappearing. It really makes me question whether this will last forever, or if it's just a short-term after effect of the Games, that every Victor goes through. Either way, I hope that they go away, or I think I really _will _die from the traumatic horrors, during the night.

Father and I trade the seafood we've caught, and walk home together. The silence that falls upon us in unnerving, despite the fact that most of our conversations are light and humorous. "So, your Victory Tour's next week, huh?" he says.

"Yeah," I reply, but don't continue on, in fear of instigating another argument or silence.

The moment we step into our living room, it's almost as if we've triggered a bomb. Mother and Rhea rush around, while Annie sits on the couch, watching TV with a blank expression on her face. There still hasn't been any improvement with her, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

"Finnick!" Rhea shouts. "President Snow's here."

"President Snow?" I repeat, more in the form of a question, rather than a statement.

"He said he wants to talk to you."

What would Snow want to talk to me for? The only _word _he has even uttered to me was, "Congratulations," and that was for my victory. I shudder at the thought of being alone in a room with him.

"He's been waiting for twenty minutes, Finn," she whispers in a hushed tone. Rhea glances around the house, nervously, as if paranoid and she turns to leave after we reach my bedroom. "I'd better go."

Wiping my palms on the hem of my shirt, I wonder if I'm dressed alright. My clothes are stained with patches of oil and sweat and I can only imagine that my hair's an unruly mess, at the moment.

I'm met with the sight of an old, _evil_ man, stirring a cup of tea, nonchalantly. His green eyes flicker up and I'm once again, reminded of the snakes from the arena. "Well, hello, Mr. Odair," he greets, with a curt nod and smile.

"To what do I owe this greatest pleasure to?"

He waves me off. "No need to be so formal Mr. Odair. Sit." And I do sit. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Almost gagging at the horrific stench of blood and roses he emits from his mouth, I tap my fingers on the arm rests of my chair, anxiously. "No, sir. It's fine. You can just call me Finnick," I reply, offering a weak and incredibly fake smile.

"Finnick… how have you been? How have your winnings been treating you? I assume your family has been well." President Snow seems genuinely curious, as he takes a sip of tea and leans forward, clasping his fingers together beneath his chin.

"I've been okay… We've been okay."

"Good, good. I've heard that you've become friends with Amphitrite Lasonga's son, Dean, is it?"

"Yeah, he's a cool guy."

"And the Delgado siblings?"

"Delgado siblings?" I echo, dubiously.

"Cashmere and Gloss. Don't you know?" I have the urge to suddenly slam my face against the desk. _I really am stupid, aren't I? _

"Oh, yes. I haven't talked to Gloss, but I have with Cashmere. How do you know?"

"I'll have you know that I am aware of everything that goes on with my Victors… And I presume that you're aware of your Victory Tour next week?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world," I lie smoothly, right through my teeth.

"Now… Mr. Odair, I have a… _proposal_ for you."

I already hate this so-called proposal. Maybe it's the way he talks, or maybe it's the fact that I simply despise him without so much of a word being conversed, but I know for a fact, that I will _hate _what he's about to say.

"Proposal? Of what kind?"

"Ah, well, Finnick. You see," he starts off, as if he's prepared this speech for weeks prior to this current meeting. "You are _extremely _well liked by the women of the Capitol; even several men have been quite… _affected _ever since your presence in the Capitol. Do you know how much people are willing to pay for you?"

My heart beats more erratically and the sound of my heart constantly pounds in my ears. What _exactly _is President Snow trying to tell me? My brain fogs up and I find it hard to concentrate.

"I don't mean to sound stupid, but…" I start off, though I know exactly how stupid I am. "What do you mean by how much people are willing to _pay _for me?"

He chuckles - it reminds me of Satan. "Fifteen; you're so innocent. Many women have told me about their… _fantasies _in bed, you could say. And of course, as their President, I must fulfil and promise them what they want."

I sit there, clenching and unclenching my fists around the armrests of my chair. My teeth grit together and I feel as if I might explode from the overwhelming number of emotions rushing through my veins. After my experience in the Capitol, I have come to realise how much the Capitolians love me - though I really hate to sound so egotistical and cocky - and it's ridiculous, in my opinion.

"WHAT?!" I scream out. I stand up abruptly, out of anger, and ignore the screech caused by the chair's legs against the ground. "Are you out of your mind?! I'm a fifteen year old teenage boy, not some goddamned prostitute you decide to sell for the pleasure of your citizens!"

"Oh no, Mr. Odair. Not now. When you're sixteen, meaning next year, you'll be of age, and only then will you fulfil their fantasies - if you agree, that is. As of right now, all you need to do is impress them. In addition, you will _also _need to mentor your tributes every year."

"No," I state, firmly. "I'll do anything _but _sleep with women who _purchase _me. I honestly don't care if I mentor or not, as long as I don't get _raped_!"

"Mr. Odair, by denying such an offer, you will be paying a price. Are you aware of that?"

"No," I reply. "But I'll be willing to pay any price. I plan on maintaining what little dignity I have in District Four."

"Very well, then, Mr. Odair. You are dismissed."

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter's the victory tour! :) Review if you want more of Cashmere and Gloss ;) **


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you to Odestalovebaby, Joe and MsMKT68 for reviewing! :) **

* * *

"Whatever you do, do not say anything that isn't on the cards. I repeat, _do not_ say anything that hasn't been written on the cards."

I nod in only the slightest bit of irritation. "Yes, Mags, you've told me that about nine times in the past ten minutes already."

"Sorry, boy. Some people don't do as they say and it's seen badly," she replies. "This is what's good for you."

"Stay in character, is what she's trying to say," Shelley interrupts. "No offence, but the Capitol doesn't want to see a naive boy who was scared of killing someone. Act like you did during your interviews - charming, suave and constantly smiling. If you do anything in the slightest way to protest, they'll kill your family. Got it?"

I nod again, but much more frantically. "What's it like in District Twelve?" I ask, after a few moments of silence (with the exception of the train itself, of course).

Almost immediately, Mags pops up a rather large sugar cube inside her mouth, as if that's her way of avoiding the question - or at least, to allow Shelley to answer for her. The latter grimaces, as if the topic physically pains her. She hesitates. "It's… _different_. A complete contrast to Capitol, you could say."

I open my mouth to reply but not before she continues on. "You'll have to see for yourself. I can't explain it."

By the time we arrive to District Twelve, my palms are clammy and sweat drips down the side of my temple. I have the vast majority of the speech memorised, from reading it so many times out of boredom and preparation. The first thing I notice when I step off the train is how cold it is, and cold wouldn't be enough of a word to describe the temperature. The cold reaches my bones and numbs my fingers and I find it to be slightly problematic to clench and unclench my fists without any difficulty.

The roads in District Twelve are… non-existent. All there is, is a thick layer of white… _stuff _that's quite bothersome to walk on.

"It's snow," Mags explains, whilst rubbing her palms together in hopes of warming them up. "It falls when it's too cold to rain so the water freezes."

"A lot of snow here is grey, though," Shelley continues. "It's really dirty."

Surrounding us, there are people dressed in rags and poor excuses for clothing. Many backs are hunched and grim expressions are plastered on everyone's face. Their features droop, and I suspect that a lot of adults look older than they really arm. Elbows, collarbones and knees protrude significantly, just like the girl who had been strangled in the arena.

"Don't they have food?" I ask, in a hushed whisper.

"Of course but not good quality. They're the poorest district; it can't be that surprising, can it?" Mags says.

Several walk by, eyeing us in disdain - well, Shelley and I in particular. They seem to smile at Mags pleasantly, though it's no surprise. She's the most welcoming person I know.

A man carrying a large, dark bottle staggers his way over. His greasy mop of blonde hair is in dire need of cutting or any sort of hairdressing and he breathes onto me, as he almost stumbles over his own feet in front of us. The pungent stench of alcohol overwhelms me and I'm the one staggering back, coughing at the smell. He laughs, hysterically, his eyes wide. His eyebags droop, making it seem like he hasn't even touched a bed in weeks, and also makes him look older than he should be.

I recognise him to be Haymitch Abernathy, the only living Victor from District Twelve. He won the 50th Hunger Games - or the 2nd Quarter Quell.

"Congratulations… on being the newest Victor," he cackles. "How lucky of you."

I watch him, disdainfully. "Uh… Thanks."

It's only about ten minutes or so, before I'm ordered to take my place on stage. My heart thumps in my chest, erratically and my lips are dry.

"Um…"

I can feel my mouth opening and closing several times, before a noise actually comes out. On one side of the platform stands a large family of about six children, who I recognise to be the female tribute's siblings. They stand huddled together in a group, with their parents holding each other. The oldest boy carries the youngest in his arms and eyes me in hatred. On the other side is the boy's family, which contains only his parents.

"It is an honour to be standing here in District Twelve, as the Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, as the most recent victor of the Annual Hunger Games. First of all, I would like to thank you for your… support."

The word barely rolls off my tongue. It feels as if I'm chewing on sand when I speak, so I don't use read off the cards I've been supplied with.

"I didn't know the tributes from this district, but I do offer my condolences. I apologise profusely, for the loss of your family, friends or relatives. I hope they are in a much better place now."

I continue on, even though I have no idea what I'm saying. I allow myself to vent in the form of a formal speech, but refrain myself from yelling profanities at the Capitol and going down on my knees, praying for the dead tributes' families forgiveness. I manage to force a smile or two onto my force throughout the speech, attempting to ignore Haymitch's intense stare.

"What are you looking at me for?" I demand, the moment I'm escorted offstage.

He waves his hand - the hand holding the liquor bottle - around, drunkenly. His eyes flitter around the area, and speaks softly into my ear. "Whatever you do, kid, don't say no. _Never refuse." _

What the hell?

Before I can ask, he's already stumbling his way halfway across the room, whooping joyously and taking a swig of his alcohol. No wonder District Twelve has no other victors.

* * *

It's silent on the train between the three of us. We've just had dinner with the Mayor's family and we're on our way to District Eleven. Shelley picks at her fingernails, her foot constantly tapping on the floor. Mags pops an unhealthy amount of sugar cubes into her mouth, avoiding conversation - well, lack of conversation.

"Haymitch said to never say no. What does that mean?"

They both freeze in their spot. Shelley's foot stops mid-tap, and the sounds of crunching sugar cubes also ceases. It's like I've triggered a bomb.

They don't reply.

Instead, Shelley pinches my ear, despite my shouts of protest and drags me down the corridor to my room, almost tossing me onto the bed with two fingers. "_Never _say that when someone could be listening," she barks into my ear.

"What? Why?"

"Because President Snow is _always _listening. If not, then someone of high reputation in the Capitol. _It's not safe_. Even in here, we have to keep quiet."

Mags hobbles in without difficulty and sits down beside me. "They'll use your negative attitude against you," she warns, quietly.

"Well, are you going to answer my question or not?" I whisper.

Shelley sighs, impatiently. "If you're caught do _anything _rebellious - which chances are, you'll definitely get caught - Snow will punish you. He won't do anything to _you_, per say, but the ones you love will be the recipients of the price you pay. His Victors are too valuable; he makes _money _from his Victors. You say no to a request? He'll play it off like it's fine, but he'll get you back. He'll make you _suffer_."

The words die in my throat and my lips become dry. Swallowing nervously, I tentatively question, "Did… Did you ever say no?"

"Yes," she replies, after a bit of hesitance, "My brother."

"I lost my husband and son to him," Mags states, grimly, then leans forward. "When he came over to your house last week, did he say anything?"

"Oh, _crap_." I only _just_ remember what had happened.

I rub my hands over my face and moan. "I said no. What am I going to do?"

"Nothing. You can't do anything."

* * *

When we arrive at District One, my heart pounds even harder than it usually did in the other Districts. I'm certain it's due to the fact that I murdered both of their tributes in the final bloodbath.

This time, I actually stuck to the original speech that Shelley and Andromeda had written out for me, previously. To say the citizens of District One hated me, would have been the hugest understatement in Panem's history.

The families of Indiana and Carter don't stop for a moment, to glare at me in utter hatred. A few girls sigh when I catch their eye and wink at them, and others are indifferent. It's quite the confusing district.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Finnick," is the first thing Cashmere says to me during the dinner. She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, though I don't know how exactly it's supposed to comfort me.

"Loss?" I echo.

"You… You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Your dad…"

"What? What happened to him?" I ask, urgently.

"He's dead."

And there it is. Blunt, straightforward and honest.

"What happened…"

"Boating accident," her brother interjects. "His boat got caught in a riptide - whatever that is - and apparently not even District Four citizens can handle that." He shoves a fork full of pork meat into his mouth, crunching loudly in an ignorant manner.

"Be nice," Cashmere scolds him before turning to me. "This is Gloss. You probably know though, he won the 63rd Games."

I nod. "Yeah, I know."

We end up bending our heads down, whispering to each other, so that no one else hears. "You're a prostitute, right?"

I almost slap myself in the forehead. Her eyes widen at how bluntly I've asked such a question and almost chokes on her food. "You _know_?"

"Oh, wait," she continues on. "Of _course_ you know."

Cashmere flicks her golden blonde her over her shoulders and her blue eyes flare in anger. She stabs at her food, harshly.

"I kind of figured it out."

"I didn't think he would actually ask for a bloody fourteen year-"

"Fifteen, now, actually."

"Old to shag the stupid women in the Capitol. It's bad enough he gets twenty year olds to do it."

"Ah… actually he asked for me to start when I was sixteen," I correct.

"Well, that makes it a little better… Kind of. Did you say yes?"

"No," I reply, glumly. "I do want my dignity, you know?"

"Yeah, well, your father paid the price for your dignity."

"…_ What?__" _

"You refuse, and he kills someone - family, friends, whatever - or if they're of age, they're reaped. It's rigged half the time, to spice things up."

When Shelley had told me that the ones I love would be the recipients for the price I pay, I never would have expected Snow to _kill off _my father.

Gloss grumbles in agreement besides her and stabs at his food again. I look at him, questioningly.

"He refused too," she elaborates. "Mother died, but we didn't know it was because of this. So Gloss refused _again_, and I was reaped the next year. Sucks, right?"

I push the plate of food away from me, not hungry anymore. "I hate this," I mutter under my breath.

"We all do. Just… when you're in the Capitol tomorrow, keep in mind that it's either the loss of your loved ones, or your preservation of dignity. I don't know about you, but I'd rather protect my family."

* * *

**A/N: Yay or nay? Review your thoughts :) **


	14. Chapter 14

**So, _apparently _(might not be correct; it's according to a few of my friends) in Mockingjay Part II, they're going to tweak the plot a little, and let Finnick live? What the hell?! I mean, I hate that Finnick died but having him live makes the plot a little… weird? What are your thoughts on it?**

**Anyways, thank you to MsMKT68, Cereal Killing 101, Joe and Just A Guest for reviewing! :) I know this isn't the worst Finnick story but I didn't expect anyone to think it was one of the best (according to you guys)! **

**Also, just to clarify: some people are confused with the type of love between Finnick and Maya? Maya was in love with him, and Finnick said, "I love you," but in a sisterly way. He's just a really sweet, kind boy who finds her pretty, and they've grown up together. **

* * *

**XIV. Satan Is President Snow**

"Finny, come here!"

"I love you, Finnick!"

"You're so _amazing _and brave!"

"We missed you!"

"Such a sweetheart."

The women of the Capitol gush over me as if I'm not present, and they quite literally, bow down to my feet. One expertly manicured hand latches around my wrist and I can't help but notice how _long _her nails were. The curves of them are perfect and there are no grooves to them. The anonymous lady digs her blood red nails into my skin, imprinting red half crescents.

"Finnick, dear," she coos. "How've you been?" She leans her body towards me, a little too close for my comfort and puts her unnaturally large cleavage and breasts on display. As horrendous as I find this situation, I cannot help but take a peek as a curious, growing teenager.

I send the lady a charming smile and rip my arm out of her grip. "I'm better now that you're here, but unfortunately, I have to go meet up with President Snow."

She pouts, exaggeratedly and rubs her cold, _orange_ hand up and down my bicep. She leans in and I tense up. Her warm breath fans across my cheek and I have to force myself to not shudder. "I'll be waiting for you."

"And I'll make sure I look for you."

_When I'm dead._

This time, I lean in and leave the ghost of a kiss on her cheek before walking off. I can hear the woman giggling and chirping in excitement, with her companions as they fret over such a one-sided, yet affectionate gesture. I manage to avoid other women by either walking right by them or by winking and saying, "I'll definitely be back for you soon."

_Goddamn_, I feel like such a whore and I haven't even _done_ anything yet.

A Peacekeeper stops me from entering Snow's office. "Who are you?"

"Finnick Odair," I smirk, smugly. "Most recent victor from District Four."

He scowls at me in disdain but allows me through, nonetheless… Not that I even waited for him. I simply storm off, suddenly feeling like an immature six-year-old and ram my shoulder into his as I walk by. I knock the majestic mahogany door twice, then twist the doorknob without waiting for a response.

"I'll do it."

"Ah, Mr. Odair, I've been expecting you. Take a seat."

"No, thank you," I reply.

He shrugs and takes a short sip from his drink, breathing out the familiar stench of blood and roses. "Fair enough. I give my condolences about your father… Such a tragedy." Snow shakes his head. "What a waste."

"You did that to him," I accused. "You _killed_ him."

The corner of his mouth twitches up. "And why do you say that Mr. Odair?"

"Because I said no!" I scream, on the verge of hysterics.

Even though Father and I had a broken patch in our relationship after my Victory, we were slowly patching it back up. Now I wouldn't be able to go back and do that.

"So naïve," he chuckles. "How in the world am I supposed to simply create a riptide where your father was? I simply made sure he receiving the consequences of your refusal."

_Gamemakers? _

"Domino Bastled is Head Gamemaker," Snow elaborates, as if he had heard my thoughts. "Quite worthy of one, at that."

"I'll do _anything," _I say. "Just don't do anything to them."

"I don't _need_ you to do anything until two years time. I'll let you start when you're nearly seventeen; does that sound better?" _No_. "All you need to do is to make the women smile and laugh today. Just make them happy and you're off the hook until the Sixty-Seventh Hunger Games. You will, however, have to come back next year as a mentor, and even then, you don't need to do anything but what you did today," he compromises.

I nod, almost frantically. "Okay, I've got it."

"Do we have an understanding, Mr. Odair?" He exhales again, and another wave of his mouth stink hits me.

"Yes, we do."

* * *

I always thought that Satan was the evilest devil. Mother and Father, both very religious, would recite passages of an ancient book from times before the Dark Days. It's called the Bible. I have almost the entire Old Testament etched into the back of my brain. I'm still learning the New Testament. Genesis 2:4, I remember, illustrates the story of Adam and Eve, and the insatiable devil, Satan.

But then, I realised, Satan_ is _President Snow.

President Snow is a manipulated demon from the Underworld, who shows no mercy. He has green eyes that constantly have a crazed, wild look in them, just like a serpent - Satan, more specifically. His lips twist up in a vile grin, slowly, in an almost unnatural manner, rather than how most people would smile. The strands of his thin white hair look crisp like snowflakes, as I've learnt from my time in District Twelve.

Sex before marriage is disapproved of, in our religion. We believe in God and he doesn't approve of it. He'll _hate_ me, and so will my family.

_Satan is President Snow_.

I almost groan in annoyance, when the tangerine-resembling lady from earlier pounces on my back, and my knees buckle at the cumbersome weight of the monstrosity above me. We land in a heap on the floor, a mess of entangled limbs and bling. "I missed you," she whispers in my ear, giggling hysterically.

"Not as much as I've missed you," I grin at her, coyly.

I wrap an arm around her thin waist and pull her up to her feet. Only now do I really _look at her_, properly. Her canary yellow hair puffs out dramatically, undoubtedly from large amounts of hair products. Her electric blue eyelashes must be two inches long and her lips are painted - or surgically altered - the same colour. She wears a thin camisole and a bright pink blazer over it, that's only buttoned up at the stomach. This over-emphasizes how voluptuous she already is - I mean, her too-big breasts look like they're about to spill out of her atrocious attire. The blazer is outlined with gold lining, that sparkles and reflects from the light.

_And I thought the Capitol were into fashion_.

Her waist is too thin to be natural, especially with her figure. Her yellow skirt matches the shade of her hair and bunches up at her thighs, though I'm pretty sure it's designed to be like that. This time, the clothing overemphasises her bulky backside that leads to thin legs on golden stilettos.

I realise how much I've criticised about her and the guilt of pointing out negative features about a lady I barely know hits me. But after trying to fish for a natural and genuine compliment, I realise the only thing _natural_ about her is her eyes. They're brown.

"You have beautiful eyes," I flirt with her. "Must be one in a million."

She giggles, again. "I wanted to keep one thing that I was born with. My eyes aren't beautiful but thank you."

An insecure, yet confident Capitol lady? _Kill me now. _

I spend the rest of the night fishing compliments for the women - not just the tangerine lady whose name I learnt was Karissa.

_Thank God I got rid of her_, I think to myself.

Bartenders refuse to serve me alcohol, despite my protest. I just want to forget the night - is it really that much to ask for? It's happened before, and I honestly wouldn't mind it again.

Maybe I'll turn into a disgusting, wretching alcoholic like Haymitch or Chaff.

But my family wouldn't approve of that either.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my gosh, I wrote the entire chapter in past tense at first, and then I realised this story is in present tense, so I had to literally go back and manually edit the entire chapter. **

**What would YOU like to see happen in this story soon? **

**If you answer, I might include what you want :) Please read and review! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Whoa! I got so many reviews! Thank you to X The mad girl back home X, MsMKT68, Just A Guest, Joe, and HogwartsDreamer113 for reviewing! :) **

**Rhea is pronounced _ree-__uh._ I've never really heard it pronounced any other way :)**

**This chapter fast forwards (a lot - six months) to the 66th Hunger Games. Personally, I find that within that period of time, the only remotely interesting things that happen is Finnick and Rhea bonding more over the loss of their father. Other than that, it's basically just Finnick training the two girls. But hey, that's nothing that can't be explained briefly this chapter.**

**What you guys want will definitely happen in the future! :) Annie will come back, in the next chapter. Obviously, the two will make up but there will still be tensions. **

**Oh, and trust me, there will be plenty of twists and turns in the future ;) **

* * *

**XV. Mentor**

For the past six months, there have been tensions within our family structure. There's an almost melancholy feeling when I walk into our Victor's house. Mother had refused to speak to us for the first few weeks and even now, she suffers more than Rhea and I. I assume it's because of how immature we really are that shows the difference. Mags, Amphitrite, Dylan Marsden and Joseph Aelous have attempted to prepare me for the 66th Hunger Games.

But I'm nowhere near prepared.

As Venala fishes around in the ladies' reaping bowl, my knee bounces up and down on its own accord, as do my fingers that tap rapidly against the edge of my seat. Inhaling a sharp breath, I bite my lip, expecting the worst: Rhea or Annie will be picked. Though the latter still irritates me with her lack of interaction with me, it would still kill me if she'd been chosen. .

"Charis Rey."

And I breathe out a sigh of relief.

The feeling of relief doesn't last long as the entire of District Four watch a incredibly well-built girl who strides down the pathway with an arrogant smirk and such grace that it looks as if she's gliding. She has the physical build of a man. In fact, she looks older than eighteen. Her arm muscles bulge immensely from the dress she wears. Her unsatisfactory height of four foot eleven and her stubby knees say otherwise, and make her seem like an absolute nuisance. She sends a flirtatious - or maybe, it's mocking - wink at me and Joseph Aelous, one of my other fellow victors chuckles and pats my knee. "Good luck with that one," he mutters in an amused tone.

I mumble obscenities under breath. For the past few months, I've returned to school to distract myself and to simply just _do _something. It must be the fact that I won that changed my reputation, because the guys have a new respect for me and girls seem to kneel down at my feet.

I'm flattered but I'm just not interested. There were plenty of pretty girls but one girl has caught my eye: Marlene Summers. She's the only person, with the exception of family, who hasn't treated me any differently. She's in my grade and I guess we could be classified as acquaintances, with the few projects we've done together for school. It's almost as if she has no emotion, or maybe she just isn't affected by Finnick Odair, the most recent Victor of the Hunger Games, and apparently the most popular as well. She's only an inch shorter than my five foot eleven frame, with jet black hair, blue eyes and a splash of freckles across her nose, which I find a little adorable.

"Maxwell Summers!"

I wince as Marlene's brother's name is called. He's a skinny twig, to say the least. I'm almost certain that I can snap his neck with my hands if I wanted to, and I barely had much muscle, like Joseph, as a fifteen year old. I'm a twig too. Maxwell, on the other hand, steps out from the group of fourteen year olds, with his staggering height six foot eight. He, quite literally, _sways_ as he walks, like he's on the verge of toppling over. He'd be a lot more intimidating if he was at least, a little buffer.

Despite how brutally harsh it is, Maxwell Summers has no hope this year. Not even with a profound number of sponsors.

It'll be a miracle if he survives the bloodbath.

I find myself waiting in the Justice Building with Amphitrite, waiting for the two tributes to finish up with their visits. What I don't expect is for Marlene to storm up to me. The fiery-tempered girl grabs me by the collar and stands on her toes, so that we're the same height. Her eyes flare. "You'd better bring my brother home-"

"I don-"

"-Don't you dare say that he has no chance," she barks in my face, only two inches away from mine. "Because I _know_ he has no chance, Odair."

I'm taken aback and irritated with how straightforward and blunt this acquaintance of mine is, despite having grown used to it - kind of. "Then why the heck did you bother-"

"Just because we're friends and you're the _almighty Finnick Odair _doesn't mean that I won't beat you up into a pulp if you don't even try for a second, to bring my brother back." Marlene Summers digs her nails into my chest as her grip around my shirt tightens even more, and her knuckles turn white. I wince at the action.

"Okay, okay!" I exclaim, raising my arms up. "I'll _try_ but I can't guarantee he'll come back. He looks like a stick compared to the usual tributes so I doubt he has a chance."

_Stupid mouth!_ I curse at myself as I watch her shoulders slump and the determined spark leaves her eyes, as they're replaced with the emotion of resent and sadness.

"I know," she grumbles. "Just… try."

I resist the urge to run up to her and ensure her that Maxwell will come back, but Amphitrite pulls me back by the collar. "Jesus, what's with girls pulling on my collar today?"

The older woman grins at me. "Maybe because we demand your attention."

I'm about to make a witty remark but she slaps the back of my head lightly and drags me towards the train. "Come on, we have to wait for them, not the other way around. Manners."

Sighing dejectedly, I trudge to the dining area of the train, plopping myself in the exact seat that Mags had sat in. It has already been a year since I had sat in the chair across the table next to Maya. _Old times._

And now, I feel like an old man - a grandfather at that - reminiscing over his previous memories that he had collected over the past few decades.

Next thing I know, I'll probably wake up with wrinkly skin and white hair.

"What are we going to do?" I ask.

Amphitrite taps her fingers on the table and says, "What Mags and Shelley did last year. Go through the districts and their specialties. Talk tactics and also interrogate them. The girl will probably join the Careers without hesitation. I'm guessing you're taking the boy, right?"

"Right," I confirm.

Charis almost _bounds_ up to us with her arrogant smirk and sits down in the chair. She slouches back, with her chair only on two legs and spreads her own legs in a disrespectful manner. I raise an eyebrow at her but don't question it as Venala reprimands her for her lack of feminine behaviour.

"That is _no way _to sit, young lady!" she scolds. "Cross your legs or at least put them together."

I stifle a laugh at her attitude towards Charis and watch as Maxwell sits down in his own chair across from mine, shakily. It is no doubt that he's spent the past half hour sobbing his eyes out. It's almost heartbreaking.

Charis smiles sweetly at me for the entire duration of our conversation.

"District Three - Have you ever watched Wiress and Beetee's games?" Amphitrite question.

The girl tribute scoffs in disdain. "They weren't warriors. They were geeks who won by chance."

The nerve of this girl is amazing. Thank God, Maxwell hasn't uttered a word yet.

"_No_," my partnering mentor forces out through gritted teeth. "They did _not _win by chance. Beetee electrocuted the last four tributes, one of whom were your aunt, if you don't mind me saying, and Wiress managed to trap people. If anything, they deserved to win more than the others."

I place my right hand on her arm in hopes of calming her down but to no avail, so I decide to continue for her. "District Three win through brains and technology. Maybe one of their tributes have a plan of creating an atomic bomb to blast off in the arena," I taunt her.

She flinches and Maxwell pales. "Th-They wouldn't do that. That'd kill them as well."

"Yeah, well, they're District Three. They'll figure out a way to not kill themselves," I bark at her.

I smile in satisfaction as she opens and closes her mouth repetitively like a fish, without a reply.

* * *

"I look like a fish."

"You _are_ a fish."

"Please don't remind me," comes Maxwell's reply.

I send him a grin as he picks at his costume, which is a glittering suit that clings to his body. It's all credits to the new prep team and stylist, of course.

"At least, you look better than Charis."

He laughs as he sneaks a glance at the aggressive girl who looks as if she's on the verge of tearing her hair out. As opposed to what I had initially thought, Maxwell is actually a pretty cool guy - just a little innocent. Just like me last year.

I watch as Amphitrite rolls her eyes at her whining tribute and pushes her towards the latter's potential allies - two intimidating pairs from both Districts One and Two.

"Alright, when you're on the chariot, smile and wave. Charis will most likely stay still with a poker face so do the opposite of that. Her height will make her look like a joke to the Capitol so _you_ have to act nice."

_Blunt and straightforward is the way to go_.

The younger boy nods. "Alliances?"

"Stay away from the Careers," I state without a millisecond of hesitation. "They'll rip your throat out the moment you reach the bloodbath, even if you do have skills with daggers."

And he does, in fact, have an unbelievable and completely unexpected talent with daggers. Last night in my room, in what I call the Justice Building of the Capitol, I had marked a spot on the wall for him to throw a knife at. It was spot on. At first, I'd thought it had been a fluke. That was only until he repeated the action with a perfect stance and flick of the hand as he casted each dagger to the opposite wall, and also until he told me about his private training with his father.

Now, that didn't explain his unnatural thinness, did it?

I'd questioned him about that. Apparently, he's anorexic. But I have no idea what that means.

"You conniving bastard!"

Charis comes storming up to Amphitrite and I, with Maxwell tagging along behind her. Then, she points an accusing finger at me and pokes me in the chest. "You ruined the night for me."

I raise an amused eyebrow at her, and cross my arms across my chest. "And how did I do that?"

"You told _him_," she spins around to point yet another accusing finger at my tribute. "To wave and smile. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I looked like a lunatic."

"Yeah, maybe because you _are_ a lunatic," I state. I curse myself for having such a blabbering mouth. The tributes and mentors from District Seven watch us in amusement as we step out of the elevator and into our designated storey.

"Excuse me?"

I smirk at her. Despite the fact that I should be serious at a time like this and I should be helping her, I find it amusing to make her frustrated and angry. Even Amphitrite and Maxwell linger behind us, stifling their laughs. "You're excused," I reply, mocking the action of a typical gentleman by bowing and allowing her to walk into the room first.

My gesture only causes her scowl to deepen and she raises herself up onto her tip-toes, even though we're both well aware of the fact that I easily tower over her short, pudgy frame.

"I will win this year's Games, Odair. I _refuse_ to let you get in the way of that," she hisses before taking off in her ridiculous attire.

It's silent for a few moments before I decide to clap my hands. "Well, wasn't that fun?"

* * *

Amphitrite leads me to the 'mentors room'. It's buzzing with energy - nervous energy, aside from Brutus' booming laughter and arrogance over his nephew participating in the Games this year.

For the first time, I hope that Charis can slaughter him, just for the sake of Brutus to shut up. As sadistic as it sounds, I have no regret thinking this, even though I'm one hundred percent sure that I will in the end.

Surprisingly, Charis had received only an eight, while Maxwell managed to score himself a nine.

"Finnick!" Cashmere bounds up to me, capturing me in a tight embrace. "I missed you!"

"Right back at ya, Cash," I reply, laughing. Gloss slaps me on the back with enough strength to make me stumble forward before he stalks off to his station.

"I'll talk to you soon. We can get sponsors at the same time, yeah?" Cashmere suggests, and I return a nod in her direction.

At District Four's section of the room, it's set out exactly the same as the others. There are five screens. The middle one shows what's displayed out to the rest of Panem, and the two on its left and right are for Maxwell and Charis. The two outer screens are what I assume to be the process of sending sponsor gifts to their respective tributes.

Amphitrite and I sit down in our chairs, plugging our headphones in. "It's touchscreen. You'll find it really easy to use, trust me. Use to fingers and spread them out to enlarge your screen, and do the opposite to minimise. The sponsor's screen is fairly straightforward. If you need any help, just ask me." She shoots me a smile before concentrating on her screen.

"Sixteen down in the bloodbath, I'm betting you," Brutus gloats. "With Nero in the Games, no one can get past him."

Gloss and Chaff from Eleven snort, while Haymitch sways in his own drunken manner.

We all watch in silence as the tributes arise from their platforms and we take our first glimpses of the arena. It's completely dark and it's only from our screens that the mentors are able to notice the eerie graveyard the tributes are situated in. "Night vision glasses," Amphitrite mutters under her breath. The tributes look around blindly and shout at each other. "What do we do?!" and "What the hell?" is all we hear.

I hear several other mentors curse, undoubtedly from their lack of sponsor money. As I scour through the available sponsor gifts, I'm actually grateful for winning last year just so that I can help another tribute. Clicking _'send'_, I watch the parachute fall right on Maxwell's head, as the timer reaches to twenty seconds. He almost stumbles off the platform, which causes me to sit on the edge of the seat and dig my nails into the armrests. He fumbles around blindly and the gong rings. Like last year, nobody leaves the platform.

"Fuck you, Odair!" bellows Blight, from District Seven, as we watch Maxwell put his glasses on and instantly race towards the Cornucopia. It's much like last year's 'bloodbath', I realise. Only the male from Four reaches the Cornucopia. But by now, Gloss' tribute has also received the same sponsor's gift.

I have the urge to laugh in Brutus' face as he turns red from the lack of support his nephew has received. It isn't surprising though; his interview had been so brutal - _too _brutal for the Capitol.

Mentors scream at their tributes to make a run for it, though it doesn't help much. My heart pounds in my chest and I'm almost certain that I'm sweating through my shirt, as I watch Maxwell pull on a backpack, secure on a belt of daggers around his waist, much like I did, and grab a sword. The weapon looks ridiculous in his hands but I have no reason to oppose as he makes his way towards his more imposing target - the boy from Two, or _Nero_ as Brutus calls him.

As the boy blindly stumbles around aimlessly, Maxwell silently creeps up around him and behind. Despite his lack of skill with a sword, I'm sure he knows how to cut something with it. My thought is proven when he raises his arms for a swipe, and the ominous blade lands its mark as it cleaves into Nero's torso. The victimised boy releases a gargled moan and collapses to the ground, as Maxwell raises the sword up for another blow.

At this point, Gloss' tribute has made his way to the Cornucopia. "Allies?" he offers. It's either that or he dies, since he's weaponless.

My tribute nods and they take their stances, back to back, after the boy from One grabs another sword. Light slowly starts to make its way into the arena and the two are forced to take off their night vision glasses to dim the blinding light. On a perfect count of three, they lunge out for the incoming tributes. While District One's male tribute has his talent, Maxwell relies on instinct when using his sword, as seen by how sloppy his moves are. Evidently realising his issue, he brings up a dagger and stabs Charis right in the neck, in the process. He twists the knife without emotion and releases.

Maxwell killed his own district partner.

It's only now that I realise how similar we are.

The girl glares up at him, ineffectively and crumples to the ground, as blood foams around her lips. Amphitrite's screen turns black.

She blinks. "I was actually expecting quite the opposite…"

"Me too," I reply, without taking my eyes off of my screen.

The pair of girls manage to escape unscathed with weapons, when they realise the joint forces between Maxwell and the boy from One. I would too.

And like Brutus had predicted earlier, sixteen were dead within the next twenty minutes. Maxwell, the pair from One, the girl from Two, and five lesser tributes are left.

I breathe out a sigh of relief as Maxwell sits down with the boy, whose name I find out to be Evan. Amphitrite insists on helping me while Maxwell is still alive and I don't bother protesting, mainly because Brutus has grabbed me by the collar, roughly and lifted me up with his brute strength, up to his height.

My feet dangle below me and I force the lump in my throat back down. "Hi?" I offered. By now, the rest of the mentors are watching us.

The six foot nine monstrosity glares at me furiously, in utter hatred. "You will pay for this," he growls at me, then quite literally, throws me against the wall across us. A few skid back and scream, while others - the drunk ones - decide to laugh. I'm about to reply, "Gee, I'm glad my pain amuses you," but I moan as I feel the solid wall contact my back.

Amphitrite and Cashmere rush over immediately as Brutus storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. It's not the most excruciating pain I've felt, but I'd prefer it if I was sitting in my designated chair. "Are you okay?" the blonde asks in concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I manage to reply as I stagger up to my feet. "I'm just… gonna get sponsors. Yeah, that sounds good."

"I'm coming with you!"

* * *

**A/N: Here's an early(ish) chapter because I probably won't be able to update on the weekend. This chapter is fast-paced because Maxwell and Charis aren't really anything. It's just Finnick's mentoring experience. BUT, I can tell you that starting from the 68th Hunger Games, things will get… _interesting _for Finnick (not the part of becoming of prostitute). You also see a different side of Finnick after his games. I mean, it's been a year; he's changed but maybe this is just only one small portion of his personality? To be an arrogant jerk? (Not really, I just decided that we needed a character other than Snow, that Finnick hated). **

**Any guesses on which district will win the 66th Hunger Games? :) What do you guys think of Marlene? **


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you HogwartsDream113, X The mad girl back home X, MrsMKT68, Just A Guest and Joe for reviewing! **

**Just clarifying, Finnick is _fifteen_ now. His birthday was halfway between his Games and the Victory Tour - around three months after his birthday. **

* * *

**XVI. Deaths and Reconciliations **

I can't do anything but watch as Althea Yule, the brutal killing machine from District One drives her axe into Maxwell's bony figure. "You go, girl!" I hear Cashmere yell at the screen. Gloss' tribute isn't here to save mine anymore. The poor guy had stepped into a trap and triggered a bunch of man-eating worms. It was quite the horrific sight.

My tribute's scream pierces through my headphones and echoes in my head. My feet and my butt are rooted on the spot as I watch her bring her axe back, then shoves Maxwell headfirst onto the ground, preparing for another swing. A moan escapes my lips as I watch the life disappear from him when his body is split into two.

The cannon booms.

My screen turns black.

He came fourth in the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games.

My knuckles begin to turn white as I clutch the sides of my seat tightly. I watch as the girl cackles, flips her hair and smirks. Her white-blonde hair glows in the light of the mentor's room and her blue eyes look at me, as if they're staring right through my soul. "Hello, Finnick."

"I-Indiana?" I stutter out.

She runs the palm of her hand along the side of her axe, then lifts it with ease. "Yes, Finnick?"

"You… You're _dead_."

"Really?" she questions. "I think you're smart enough to know that I'm not dead, _Finn_."

"No," I murmur to myself, and rock back and forth. "No, no, no. This can't be happening. No, you're dead!" The loudness of my voice continues to increase with each word. "You're not real!"

Indiana takes a confident step forward and grabs my chin with her thumb and index finger. "You really are handsome, Finnick," she whispers, softly. I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at her with a wide-eyed gaze, too terrified to move. The blonde girl leans in closer, our noses touching. "It's no wonder you had so many sponsors… That trident must've cost so much money."

She lifts her eyes up to mine and it's like we're have a staring competition. "You ruined that for me!" she bellows and spits in my face. A sharp pain floods through my veins and I let out a hiss, as the blade of her axe sinks into my stomach. I can feel the blood seeping out and sticking to my shirt.

"I'm sorry," I gasp out. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"You ruined my life!" Her pale, milky skin is now flaming red as she shouts at me in rage. "_I _should have won. Not some scrawny, pathetic kid!"

"I'm sorry," I moan.

A sharp slap to my face brings me back to reality and I see Amphitrite standing in front of me with her hands placed on her hips. "Are you okay?" she asks, in concern.

The Mentors' Room is silent. The twins, Cecelia from Eight, and the male from Five stare at me, blankly. Instinctively, I bring my hand up to my stomach and breathe out a sigh of relief when I find the skin to be closed. "I… I'm fine. Let's go home."

Cashmere sends me a sympathetic smile and gestures for me to call her later. I nod, curtly and walk my way out of the room, shaking, with Amphitrite trailing behind me.

"You'll have to get used to it," she says, while we're returning back to District Four.

"I know," I reply, quietly.

"You're going to have to come back every year, you know?"

"What?!" I bolt out of my seat. "I thought it was like, a rotation thing or victors volunteer for tributes they have connections to."

Amphitrite hesitates before answering. "That usually is the case but… Snow's orders. You have to come every year while the rest of us rotate."

Of course, it was Satan.

I sink back into my seat and cradle my head in my hands.

I don't question it anymore.

Althea Yule is announced Victor of the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games.

* * *

_Thank God there's no paparazzi._

This time, I can actually walk through the crowd without being trampled over by the Capitolians. None of the people from District Four gather either, with the exception of people dragging goods to the central market.

Not even Marlene and her family.

As Amphitrite and I walk the path to the Victors Village glumly, the empty hole in my heart hasn't filled up yet. I could've sent Maxwell a warning, or _something _to help. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it would be to talk to Marlene again - or even see her.

A grin does however spread as I spot Mags on her rocking chair, knitting away. "Mags!" I yell at her and envelop her into a hug. "I missed you."

She chuckles and pats me on the head, like I'm a kid. "How are you, Finnick?"

I release a dejected sigh and she smiles at me, sympathetically. "I'm sorry," she apologises. "You should go see Annie and Rhea. They've been missing you."

I scoff at the thought of Annie missing me. "Annie wouldn't miss me."

Mags, however, sends me a knowing look - that I don't know what it's supposed to mean - and shoos me off. "I know you missed me, Finn. I missed you too but your family's not you without you."

Kissing her cheek, I hear a familiar giggly erupt from behind me. I laugh as Rhea jumps onto my back, holding onto her legs to refrain the two of us from falling. "Finnick!" she squeals.

Mags chuckles at our frivolous actions, as I carry her to our house and swing her down. "How are you guys?" I ask, as we enter the kitchen.

Mother stands by the oven, cooking what I assume to be dinner. Her expression lights up when she sees me. "Just in time, Finnick! How was the Capitol?"

"It was… good," I manage to say, when I realise that anyone from the Capitol could hear me.

"Good, good. Finn, can you go get Annie? Ask Rhea where she went."

Rhea giggles at the mention of Annie and mother rolls her eyes. "What's so funny?" I question.

She giggles again. "Annie has a _boyfriend_."

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Mother scolds Rhea. "She's too young."

"Annie's in the training center with her boyfriend, Finn."

It doesn't take very long to reach the training center. It's only about a ten minutes walk. Fisherman greet me and I wave back. The Peacekeepers turn a blind eye on me. The training center is relatively empty today. A few older teenagers are wrestling in the middle of the building, laughing raucously. Several of the younger ones seclude themselves in their own spaces, training themselves.

"Yo, Finnick!" calls out one of my mates from school, Oliver. I nod in reply. A few girls blush as I walk through the center and giggle within their groups, as I send flirtatious winks at them. One daring and extremely shameless girl prances up to me with a trident and runs a hand down my chest. She leans forward, giving me a mouthful of her mousy brown hair, and murmurs, "Want to teach me?"

She hands me the familiar weapon and I run my hand down the sleek handle of the trident. I grin, coyly and lean in towards her. "Or maybe… I could teach _you_ something else."

The girl giggles and glances down at my lips. "I'd _love _that." She leans in further, and at the last moment, I pull away. It almost feels natural to flirt with girls now. "Maybe later," I reply, with a grin and hand back the trident. The boys in the center bellow in laughter and slap me on the back, encouragingly while the girl blushes a beet red.

I smirk and take a few long strides to the girl with jet black hair and blue eyes. I force myself not to walk away from her and act like a coward. Stopping a metre away from her, I shove my hands into my pockets and rock on the balls of my feet. "I'm sorry," I apologise.

Marlene lets out a deep breath and her shoulders slump forward. "Not your fault. You can only do so much, right?"

"I could've done more," I insist. "I told you I'd try and I didn't try hard enough! I should have gotten more sponsors or _something_."

"Shut your mouth, Odair. You did what you did and it's over."

Ignoring her glare, I continue on like she hadn't spoken at all. "I should've tried. Man, I'm such a bad mentor," I groan.

"Hey, Odair," she snaps. "I appreciate your sympathy and all that but not everything's perfect. I'll… I'll try and move on, and you will too. He didn't even _mean _anything to you - if he did, then _barely_."

Rather than screaming, we are whispering furiously at each other. "He didn't mean anything?! It was my _job_. I was his _mentor_."

"You didn't do a very good job at it, now did you, Odair?"

I gnaw at my bottom lip to stop myself from making a sarcastic remark and glare at her. I decide to say something less rude. "Well, I'm sorry your brother died because of me."

"He didn't die because of you!" Marlene looked like she was on the verge of ripping her hair out. "He was fucking _murdered_ by Althea Yule, the priss from District One. You had nothing to do with it."

"I… I'm sorry," I manage to say.

She sighs, frustratedly. "You really are a nice guy."

"And that's supposed to be a bad thing?"

"No. But it is when you're _too_ nice," she states and pats my shoulder. "You toughen up a bit and I think we could be friends."

I watch her walk off, dumbfounded by her utterly absurd behaviour. "What the hell," I find myself muttering to myself. Realising why I was in the training centre, I set off on my mission to bring Annie Cresta home.

I can't help but wonder which one Annie's boyfriend is, as I spot her sparring with a boy whose dark blonde hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. It's dagger against sword. Well, I guess I just found out who. The boy stands at a height of five foot seven, as opposed to Annie's five foot five and seems to be gaining the upper hand. I don't doubt for a second that it's because of the larger weapon he wields, and the strength he has over Annie.

"So is this the boyfriend I've been told about?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.

Annie lets out a squeak and snaps her head towards me, allowing the boy to point the sword to her neck. He smirks. "Win for me, Cresta."

"Finnick!" Annie cries out, indignantly. "I could have won that!"

I raise an eyebrow at her. This is the most amount of recognition I've received from her all year.

"Whoa, dude," the boy says, "You're Finnick Odair."

"Yes, that's me."

"You were amazing last year!" he exclaims. "I want to be just like you one day."

I laugh, bitterly at his optimism. "So, are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?"

A rosy blush forms on both of their cheeks. And I find that the blush that blossoms on Annie's cheeks, annoys me. An unnerving feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. "He-He's not my boyfriend!" she denies. "His name is Ayden."

The boy waves at me, grinning and I roll my eyes. "Come on, Annie. We have to go home."

"Wait, you guys live together?" Ayden frowns.

"Yep."

He narrows his green eyes, suspiciously, at me. "Isn't that… What about…" He sighs. "Never mind."

I raise my eyebrows at him and slip my hand around Annie's slim wrist. "Got a problem with it?"

Ayden shakes his head. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Annie."

Her eyes light up and she smiles a smile I haven't seen in ages. "Bye!"

The unsettling feeling returns and I drag her away from the training centre. "What's your problem?" Annie snaps at me.

"My problem?" I reply, sharply. "I'm trying to get you home. You're the one who was with your boyfriend."

She snorts. "What, are you jealous?"

Scoffing, I roll my eyes and ignore the churning in my stomach. "No."

_Yes._

* * *

**A/N: Have you guys seen Mockingjay teaser trailer?! It's amazing! **

**I hope you liked this chapter :) Hopefully I'll be able to update a bit more often in the next three weeks, since it's my winter holidays. Please review your opinions! :) **


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you MrsMKT68, HogwartsDreamer113, Joe and gaptasticventure for reviewing! :) **

**From the time between Finnick's Hunger Games and the time he becomes classified as a prostitute, it's pretty boring; I won't lie. So I'm wondering, would you like me to drag it out with several different parts of the year or to fastforward and write like, two chapters until the next Games? **

* * *

**XVII. **

"Aye, Odair!" Calder yells. "Got a large haul of fish 'ere. Make yourself useful and help me, would ya?"

I chuckle at his demanding tone but grab onto the opposite end of the net's rope, nonetheless. The coarse texture of the rope feels familiar, as it easily slips through the palm of my hands and my fingers. It's only the three of us this morning, with the other man, Whitmore, manning the ship. Dean, Amphitrite's son, tends to join us on most mornings, unless he has lessons before school hours like today. It takes a lot more effort than it usually does to pull up the caught seafood. With several grunts, we manage to successfully haul the load on deck.

Then, we gut the fish. The initial thought of killing them and touching a knife causes me to wince at the horrid memory of the Hunger Games, but I manage to complete the task without further ado. Over the past year, I've attempted to push my memories of my Games to the back of my mind, and to never think of them, but it proves to be impossible. I'm constantly reminded of the Games - seeing Marlene makes me flinch because of how I was incapable of saving her brother; seeing my own Victor's House even inflicts memories to surge through my mind as it reminds me of how I received such fortune; flirting with girls reminds me of how I managed to kill Indiana; going to school reminds me how popular I've gotten due to my victory. And even when I'm mostly distracted during the day, sleep triggers my memories. Every night, nightmares occur and I find myself having to scream myself awake.

Calder, Whitmore and I drag the bucket loads of fresh fish into the central trading centre of District Four, only to be mobbed within seconds. "Ay, Calder, what fish you got there?!" yells a nasty looking fisherman with yellow, crooked teeth, red-rimmed eyes and shaggy hair.

"Cod, barramundi, flukes, common breams; you're in luck today, Harper."

The man, Harper, fishes through his apron's pockets, searching for any cash he might have on him at the moment, as other men come up to us doing the same. "Odair, how much for a kilo of salmon and tuna?" one yells.

"Forty for a kilo of salmon and fifty for tuna," I yell back. "But you don't have to pay me. Just Calder and Whitmore."

"You sure, man?"

I nod in response and Calder demands, "Go to school, Odair."

"Are you sure?" I ask, skeptically. "Can you handle these people? It's just you two now."

"Yeah, yeah, quit ya yapping, Odair. I got it." He waves me off. "Go to school or hang out with your girlfriend; that Cresta girl you live with?"

"She's not my…" I pause for a moment to find the rights words but to no avail. "We're not…" I end up sighing and saying, "Never mind."

I go home to take a quick shower. I scrub the grime and stench of fish off my body. After standing under the hot water for so long that my skin is red, I finally step out, dry and clothe myself.

It's become a routine now. I wake up early in the morning - usually from my nightmares -, going out to sea to fish with my deceased father's mates, go to school, hang out with my friends for a while, then train with the girls. Even after my Hunger Games, I still train - maybe it's a way of releasing the emotions I bottle up, maybe it's to just stay fit and trained in case I'm trapped in an arena again.

And I'm hoping that won't be the case, since it's already a highly unlikely possibility.

School tends to be tedious but I know that I have no choice but to go, for my own benefit. Our English teacher, Miss Forbes, reads out _Romeo and Juliet, _a play from the Olden Times before the rebellion. I can't help but think_, 'Can a 13 year old even fall in love?'_ The entire concept seems a little stupid to me; I barely find it tragic, if that's the correct word to describe it. After hearing the story, several girls name me as 'their Romeo', and I'm not sure if that's supposed to a good or bad thing - it's quite flattering, but if I'm Romeo, then I, along with those girls, would both end up suiciding.

It's at this point in my schooling years that I realise how confusing those from the olden ages were.

"Mr Odair, are you paying attention?"

Snapping out of my daze, I blink several times. "Huh?"

Miss Forbes sighs in exasperation - I've dozed off into my own land several times already. "Don't do that again, Finnick. You need your grades."

I glare at Marlene, who struggles to keep her laugh in across the table, and nod.

"Got it, Miss."

* * *

"So, dude, how are the women in the Capitol?" Oliver asks in curiosity.

Releasing a chuckle at his curiosity, I reply, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"They any fun?" he questions with an impish grin.

I roll my eyes and force a smirk onto my face. "Yeah, sure. You could say that."

_More like the complete opposite_.

"Ah, man, you're so lucky." He pats my back, approvingly. "I wish I could go there. The girls must be pretty hot."

"Eh, they're okay," I lie straight through my teeth, smoothly.

"Oh, yeah, _sure_. You're too busy staring at Summers," he teases.

I scoff and roll my eyes again. "_Marlene Summers_? She's cool and kind of a friend person, but she is a _little_ too psychotic and violent for me. That girl packs one hard punch." Instinctively, I rub the bruise on my chest where Marlene had 'accidentally' hit me yesterday morning during school.

"Fiesty. I like it," he smirks. "You think she'd give me a chance?"

"Wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't," I snort.

"And how about Cresta?"

I stop in my tracks and raise my eyebrows at Oliver. The guttural feeling boils in the pit of my stomach again. "You want to be with Cresta? Annie Cresta?"

He snorts and flicks his brown hair out of his eyes. "No. I meant _you_."

"_Annie Cresta?_" I repeat, dubiously.

Oliver rolls his eyes. "What other Cresta is there? In case you forgot, Annie's the only female Cresta here."

Grimacing, I push the guilt and the thought of Maya aside while he continues on. "You're always staring at her even though you live with her. You're just one extra lucky guy, eh?"

"Don't talk about her like that," I snap.

"Whoa, bro, chill," he raises his hands up in an innocent manner. "I was joking. Are you _jealous_?"

The feeling of deja vu washes over me, as I snap back, "No," but think, _'Yes'._

"She has that boyfriend of hers anyway. Ayden, I think?" I continue.

Oliver nods. "Yeah, I see them around quite often. Pretty close but I doubt they're dating - probably just friends who really like each other in their pre-teen stage."

"Oh, you mean like you did with Miss Forbes last year?" I release a loud laugh, recalling the memory of Oliver offering two dozens of blood red roses to our English teacher last year. She'd been flustered, to say the least, and denied the flowers in the most generous way possible but Oliver was a persistent little brat.

He blushes. "We agreed that we would never bring that back up again," he accuses.

A natural smirk settles itself upon my lips. "I never promised. Besides, you said yourself that you found her pretty. There's no problem with that."

"Except for the fact that she's almost _double_ our age."

"Oh, yeah," I agree. "A fourteen - almost fifteen - year old boy proposing to a twenty-seven year old teacher. Nothing wrong about that at all."

"Finnick!"

Oliver and I turn around to find Rhea running towards us, with wind-messed hair and a wild look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She pants, and rests the palms of her hands on her knees.

"Mum fainted."

* * *

**A/N: Once again, please review whether you want more chapters to drag out events of the next two years, or to keep it brief and short :) **


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you MrsMKT68, HogwartsDreamer113, X The mad girl back home X, .gorn, and Just A Guest for reviewing! :) **

**From the reviews I've received, I think I'll just post snippets (the more important bits) of Finnick's time for the next two years. **

**P.S: Happy (late) 4th of July to any Americans! **

* * *

**XVIII. **

I don't even bother bidding farewell to Oliver, as I speed down the road to the Victors Village. He won't mind, considering the situation we're currently in. I'm back in the arena again and I'm being chased by snakes. From behind me, Rhea releases an ear-piercing shriek. I clamp my hands over my eyes, attempting to block out the sound and then realise that she needs help.

"Finnick!" she screams.

A snake clamps its fangs onto Rhea's ankle and she lets out another screech. "Help me!"

_Ssssss_.

Two fangs dig into my left calf and the pain is numbed by the urgency of saving my sister. The hissing of snakes echoes around in my mind and I find it exceedingly hard to think straight. I start seeing double. Half stumbling around, I manage to regain my balance, despite the pounding ache in my leg and the blood pouring out of it.

Time seems to slow down as I rush after her. Rhea collapses and the snake advances on her, slithering up her torso. It opens its mouth wide and I can only watch it horror as the monstrous creature digs its teeth into her chest.

"Finnick!" She slaps my cheek and the deja vu washes over me for the second time today.

I cast my gaze down to my calf, then her ankle and then her upper body, and breathe out a sigh of relief. "Sorry," I apologise. "… Hallucination."

She stares at me for a few unnerving moments with a frown etched on her forehead. "Are you okay?"

I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile and nod. "Let's go see mother."

The route home seems incredibly slow and time consuming. My patience starts to wear thin, despite the fact that we're running as fast as we can. "Slow down, Finnick!" Rhea yells from behind me, "It's not like she's going to die!"

"Yeah? How do you know?"

"Maybe because you've passed out a lot more times and every time, you've woken up."

"But those were from the arena," I argued back.

"Once you passed out because you didn't sleep for four days."

"That was an accident and just _once_."

By the time we reach our house, paramedics are rushing in and out of the house. The urgency that is written all over their faces almost causes me to stop breathing all at once. I lunge forward to the front door step of our house.

"No, Odair, don't you do that," I faintly hear Joseph Aelous' demanding voice, as well as Rhea's loud sobs. A pair of rigid, strong arms grip onto my shoulders and pull me back.

"No!" I scream, as I watch a few doctors wheel a gurney out of our house. They run along the pavement to where I'm assuming is the District's hospital, which is fortunately only a few streets away. Annie trails behind with a wild expression on her face. Struggling in the grip of Joseph's hands, I rear my elbow back, slamming it into his shoulder blade and he loosens his right hand's grip only a little. "Watch it, Odair," he grunts in pain. "Give her some space."

"She's my mum!"

"Stop struggling!" he roared into my ear. Unable to stand watching the doctors and my mother on the gurney disappear around the corner, I manage to pull myself out of his vice grip and only seconds later, his left cheek meets my fist. He may be thirty-five years old and stronger, but I'm taller. "Get off me, you bastard," I grunt out and out of blind anger, I land another punch on him, square in the face. I'm almost _satisfied_ when I see the blood dribbling out of his nose.

A smaller and cold hand slips into mine. "Rhea's already on her way to the hospital," a quiet voice speaks up. I close my eyes, and breathe in and breathe out. Despite the situation, I can't help but think how the spaces between my fingers are right where hers fit perfectly.

"Let's go," I say, shortly.

The path to the hospital seems to take even longer than it did when Rhea and I ran home. Annie's small hand is clammy, probably from nervous sweat, but I don't mind it. It's comforting to know that at least, she's safe.

When we do arrive, the place is buzzing. Doctors shout orders at each other, several contradicting others. "In the ER, Odair! You can't go in," the receptionist yells at me, as I storm past her.

"Shut up," I snarl.

"Emergency room," Annie mumbles.

"What?"

"Emergency room," she repeats. "That's the ER."

I stop in my tracks and shoot her an irritated glance. "Where were you?" I demand. "Why didn't you help her?"

"I was at… _home_. I didn't know that she passed out. I was about to go outside but I saw here in the kitchen and then…" She trails off and pulls her hand away from mine, twiddling with her thumbs.

"And then, _what, _Annie?"

"She was lying on the floor and there was blood all over the floor," she whispers so softly that I have to strain my ears.

And now, I notice how _relaxed_ she is, compared to me, compared to Rhea, and the doctors. "Why aren't you worried?" I demand, unable to control what I spit out of my mouth anymore. "It's more like you're… scared. What's wrong with you?"

"She's not my mother!"

The words die in my throat and I laugh bitterly. "Of course she's not, but she considers you to be her daughter."

"But that doesn't mean I don't care," she argues. "I do worry. I guess I just have more self-control than you."

I spot Rhea banging on a door, tears streaming down her face. "Mummy!" she screams. Immediately, I rush over and crash into the door in the process, in hopes of breaking it. I groan as my shoulder throbs, painfully.

"Mr Odair, step away!" a nurse exclaims, while she examines my shoulder. "You can't go inside."

I ignore her. I watch through the window as the five doctors inside fiddle with my mother's body. It's almost as if they're violating her. "What's happening?" Rhea asks. She's too short to see through the window.

I hold her hand and squeeze it, comfortingly. "I don't know."

An incessant beeping that signals our mother's unstable breathing comes from inside the room. I don't even need an education to understand what that means as the doctors inside force their actions in a more urgent manner.

The line goes flat.

Rhea and I stare at each other in horror for a few moments before I tear my gaze away and I watch a doctor attempt to resuscitate her. They pound an object onto her chest and her body spasms for a brief moment before it relaxes. The line become volatile again. Twisting the metal doorknob in my hands, I unlock it and tear it off in the process. I ignore the shouts of protest from the nurses outside and barge in the moment the line goes flat again. Despite the fruitless attempts of reviving her, the line remains flat.

"No," I say, shaking my head frantically. "This can't be happening. No, no, no, she's _not… _she's not…"

The doctor who seems to be in charge steps back and gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mr Odair."

My lungs seem to constrict and I find it hard to breathe. "No," I gasp out, "Mum!"

I hold onto her limp, frail form on the bed and shake her. "Wake up." Vaguely aware of the doctors behind me, I grab her cheeks. Her eyes are tightly shut and her body is quickly losing heat. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Several arms grab a hold onto me from behind and drag me away. I punch, kick, elbow whatever's in the way and suddenly, everything becomes a blur.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm reminded of when I woke up after my Games. I'm situated in a dazzling bright room. I blink rapidly, getting rid of the sleep in my eyes and look around, sitting up automatically.

"Take it slow, Mr Odair," the doctor says.

"What happened?"

"You freaked out; destroyed almost everything in the room and they injected you with a sedative," Annie replies. I look over at her and I notice Rhea is sitting on the bed on her other side.

"Sedative?"

"Mr Odair, I suggest you relax for a moment," the doctor advises, "You did a bit of damage to the hospital and yourself."

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with me," I snap.

"Yeah," Rhea replies, sarcastically. "That's why you tore down the IV cords, punched the nurses and doctors and everything."

"Mr Odair-"

"Finnick," I interject.

"_Mr Odair_, you'll be placed in the psychiatric ward for a while," the doctor continues as if I hadn't just interrupted.

"What? Why?!"

"You've been diagnosed with PTSD - post traumatic stress disorder and depression. From what I've been told, you have suffered from hallucinations, am I correct?" I nod. "It will be safer for you to stay in the hospital where people can keep a watchful eye on you."

I roll my eyes and scoff. "I don't _need _people watching me. I can take care of myself."

The doctor nods. "That's what I thought you'd say. That is why you'll be staying home for a week. If nothing improves, you'll be coming here in the psychiatric ward, no matter what."

Not in the mood for fighting, I just sigh and agree. "Just tell me what happened to my mother."

He looks conflicted for a moment and the two girls shift uncomfortably in their seats, immediately averting their eyes away from me. "What am I missing?" I ask.

"I don't think it's good for you to know," he replies, "At least not right now…"

"Tell me."

"No, Mr Odair. This is for your own good as of right now."

"You sure sound like you want to be punched right now," I mutter under my breath.

He sighs, most likely irritated with my persistence. "Your mother also had PTSD and depression. After the death of your father, she slowly drowned in a depression and a few months later, your sister dragged her to the hospital where she was officially diagnosed."

"How is that possible? She was always smiling at home."

"The one thing about people with depression is that they put on a fake smile. Don't you do that?"

"… No." My brain screams,_ lies!_

"Another symptom is that they deny it. Your mother refused to come to her designated weekly visits. Her death was a suicidal attempt."

"No, it bloody wasn't!" I leap out of the hospital bed and grab his collar. "She was _fine_! You killed her! You and the other doctors."

"We detected drugs in her body. Annie said there was an empty bottle of pills on the kitchen table. She also sliced her own wrist as well, which made it even worse."

The uncomfortable, yet placid look on his face tells me how honest he is, even though I try to not acknowledge it. I turn to the girls and point an accusing finger at them. "You guys knew about this."

Rhea winces and the two of them shift under my gaze, uneasily. Annie nods, almost hesitantly.

I don't say anything. I bolt out of the room and run to the only place I can think of: Annie's cave.

When I get there, I cry.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Guilia892, MsMKT68, X The mad girl back home X, Just A Guest and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :)  
**

**In response to one of the reviews, I don't think Finnick's a pedophile. He's 15, Annie's nearly 14. It's only a 1-2 year difference, but it really depends on how you view it. Finnick's still unsure and pretty oblivious with his feelings as of right now and obviously, he's in no situation to deal with romance issues in this part of the story. I know it's weird in teen years since it seems _extremely_ weird for two people with an age difference to be a couple but y'know, "age is but a number". At least he's not like 19. **I don't mind what your opinion is on their difference in age. Just keep in mind that Annie still likes Ayden ;)****

* * *

**XIX. **

Raindrops splattered and rolled down the crystal clear window. I watch as droplets of water trailed down and gaze straight outside at my house. I can't help but shiver at the sight of the trees behind the house, which seem to give off an ominous feeling. I release a long sigh.

"What do I do?" I ask Mags, setting down a cup of tea for her.

"That's your choice," she replies. "Not mine but you can't just keep ignoring them forever. You've been staying here all week. When do you plan on going home to them?"

My shoulders slump and I slouch in the chair. "I don't know. You and Amphitrite are taking care of them fine."

She pats my shoulder, affectionately. "Rhea's your sister and you've known Annie for years."

"But I don't get it! Why didn't they tell me?"

"They're thirteen, Finnick; nearly fourteen. They may be smart but they probably don't completely understand what happened."

"They still could've at least mentioned it once or twice," I grumbled, crossing my arms across my chest.

It's not like it was my fault that I had no idea what happened. For the past week, I've been ignoring the girls. I have stayed at Mags' house, avoiding them as much as possible. I'm not only upset with them for not informing me about my mother's mental issues, but I'm most disappointed in Annie. She'd been treated like a daughter and we'd offered her a home, and she was barely affected by mother's death.

Training with them has been out of the question, though I do train by myself sometimes after school to release some steam. I fish, go to school, train and hang out with my mates. When I'm not home, Mags cooks and takes care of the girls while they're not at school. While I want to forgive them so badly, I just can't seem to find myself to be able to do that. If only they had told me about mother's illnesses, I would have been able to help, rather than walk around District Four like a fool.

I often ponder if my mother's death is a consequence of something I've done. Have I defied President Snow? I don't recall anything _bad_ I've done since last year. If memory serves, I had actually agreed to his deal rather begrudgingly. The guilt and curiosity has been eating me from the inside out as I keep questioning myself. What the hell did I do?

"It's not your fault," Mags reprimands, as if she had just read my mind. "PTSD is normal for individuals who lose their lover. I can guarantee you that Snow had nothing to do with manipulating your mother or anything."

"Yes, he did!" I stand up abruptly, the legs of my chair screeching against the timber floor. "He killed my father and that consequently killed my mother! He's such a conniving bastard!" I spit out, my tone laced with venom and hatred.

"Finnick," she scolds, "That's what's going to get you in trouble. Stop mouthing off other people…" Her voice lowers into a soft whisper. "Especially not Snow."

I snort, "What else will he do? Kill off Annie and Rhea? If he does that, he'll have _nothing_ against me and how would that benefit him?"

"Finnick."

The voice echoes around in my mind almost painfully. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. Slowly, the voice becomes more masculine and I open my eyes out of curiosity. "Finnick… Finnick… Finnick…" The voice trails off into a fading whisper and within seconds, it becomes audible again and louder.

"Hello?" I ask, taking a hesitant step forward. "Who's there?"

"Me."

I whip around, almost losing my balance in the process and coming face to face with Maxwell. He stares at me indifferently. His thin, lanky frame towers over my height of six feet. Arms crossed, legs stood apart, frown etched on his face and a weapon in hand - he makes me feel like a defenceless chicken about to be fried. "How are you?" I manage to ask.

He shrugs, running his index finger along the sharper side of his blood-stained sword. "Can't really say, being dead and all that, you know?"

Grimacing, I apologise. "I should have tried and sent you a sponsors gift as a message to run or _something_. I'm so sorry I failed you."

The hand clutching the weapon twitched and his fingers tightened their grip around the handle. "Sorry won't cut it, Finnick," Maxwell laughs bitterly. "I'm _dead_. There's nothing you can do about it. The Capitol may be able to bring people back to life, but they won't bring_ me _back. You bloody _killed _me."

"No, I didn't!" I argue. "_Althea Yule_, from District One killed you. Believe me, if I could, I would have helped you. I _wanted_ to, but it was too late by the time I searched through the sponsors gifts list."

"I don't care!" he bellows. Maxwell's knuckles turn white as he clutches onto the sword for dear life, raising it a few inches off the ground. Seconds later, it's pressing into the middle of my neck. I let out a gasp at the sudden action and look down with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

The blade presses against my skin, enough for a droplet of blood to seep out. He laughs bitterly. "Something I should've done the moment you opened your mouth."

"Finnick? Finn-"

Two Mags' appear in front of me. I blink rapidly until there's only one figure standing in front of me. When I finally gain my senses back, I realise that I'm desperately gasping for air and sweating - and not just like normal; I have beads of sweat dripping down the side of my face. A small, comforting hand places itself on my shoulder and I receive a gummy, sympathetic smile from Mags.

"Are you okay, Finnick?"

I let out a deep breath and reply with a vague, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You go to the psychiatric ward tomorrow, remember?" she reminds me.

"I don't need to go!" I argue back. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," she denies, in a tone that I have learnt is supposed to be firm and decisive. "I'm not saying you have to like it or you'll be all perfect again like you were before the Games, but it will help, at least in the slightest."

"I don't need to go! I'm completely fine!" I exclaim, standing up with my chair screeching against the floor again. "Besides, it's weird to be a victor of the Hunger Games and to be at a freaking mental hospital."

"Language," she scolds. "If you were fine, you wouldn't be having constant hallucinations and blowing up on everyone all the time."

"I don't… _blow up _on everyone _all the time_, Mags…" Despite what I say, I find myself to not believe it. I have in fact, blown up on people: Annie, Rhea and just now, Mags. Heck, I nearly blew up on Marlene and Oliver a few days ago.

"It will help," Mags encourages.

I sigh, knowing there's no way out of this. "Fine… but I don't want to go. Remember that."

She gives me another gummy smile. "Better than nothing."

* * *

**A/N: I had a bit of trouble writing this chapter - that's why it's shorter than usual - but I hope it's okay :) I have no idea what happens in mental wards in hospitals so I'll have to do a lot of research on it :/ **


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you QuinnDeRavensborough, Joe, X The mad girl back home X, HogwartsDreamer113, MrsMKT68, FireAndWater32 and Guilia982 for reviewing! :) **

* * *

**XX. Doctor Audrye**

I hate the psychiatric ward. I hate the people there. To put it in simpler words, I hate the hospital in general. The smell of medicine reminds me of the smell of the room I was placed in after my victory. It's filthy and disgusting.

I've spent a long, tedious five months in this hellhole and according to my counsellor, I've gotten worse. I have no proof of recovery or improvement, which aggravates me The nurses, doctors, psychiatrists and whoever else there is in the hospital, are too nice. They treat me like I'm a broken shard of glass; like I'm going to crumble under one small touch. But, I'm a man. I'm strong - physically, mentally and emotionally. I think the only thing _wrong_ is the fact that the Capitol decided to throw a fourteen year old boy into the Hunger Games without a care for the world, and made a diva out of him. And it is for these reasons that I am as broken as I am right now; why I'm in the stupid hospital and why I can't seem to be patched back together. It is for these reasons that I'm not as strong - physically, mentally and emotionally - as I should be at this age.

Oliver visits me quite often and while we are able to bond and grow closer to each other, I find myself envying him of how perfect his life is. His parents are fantastic traders in the District - thank God, Oliver isn't a spoilt brat - and he has two younger siblings: Brody, his fourteen-year old brother and Syndi, his six year old sister. He has a steady girlfriend, Arden who's a sweet, beautiful girl - she visits sometimes too and we play board games like chess or checkers. He manages to distract me from the gloomy building I currently live in. Oliver doesn't that I'm the Victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games, or that I'm the youngest victor to ever live, or that I'm a celebrity in the Capitol, and I couldn't be more grateful for having him as a best friend.

Mags visits often as well, and offers a lot of her wisdom and guidance. She encourages to do better here and I try - I really do, but nothing seems to click for me. I don't belong here; everybody knows that all too well. However, two months ago, she had a stroke. It affected her speaking and now she speaks a little incoherently. I can understand her at least.

Rhea tags along with her, usually walking in with an expression of guilt. Though our sibling bond might not be as strong as it was since before our mother's incident, we're working on. We're slowly patching things up and it's become a lot easier to talk to her. We laugh and smile at each other but it's not the same. I don't know if it ever will be.

Annie, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. Not once has she visited and I often ponder why. Sometimes, I have a suspicion that she's completely forgotten about me intentionally, to push the memory of her deceased sister to the back of her mind so she can erase the pain. Oliver had told me that she is now officially dating Ayden, the boy I'd seen her training with. If I could, I would feel happy for her. But I feel so empty inside when I think of Annie, that I can't feel anything for her. She's just the irritatingly quiet girl who crept into my life for no reason.

School has been entirely out of the question. They fear that I'll harm students and teachers, and additionally, I'll also be too distracted. I've been diagnosed with ADHD too, which explains why my hands desperately seek for a piece of rope to tie and untie, and why I have the tendency to bounce my knee up and down. A group of us, around the same age, are taught in the hospital by a teacher who allows us to catch up on the most essential subjects from school - maths, English, history and science. While school is usually loud and rowdy, filled with enthusiastic students, it's deadly silent here aside from the shuffling of papers. Time lags slowly and torturously.

Right now, I'm sitting down in Doctor Audrye's office, opposite of her. She scrolls through a file on her computer as I bounce a tennis ball on the ground repeatedly. She's a nice woman in her early twenties and one of the few people I have the patience to talk to. I often hear a few boys in the hospital talk about how beautiful she is, and I can't deny it. With her sleek, blond hair tied into high ponytail, sparkling blue eyes and a feminine body, it's impossible to call her otherwise. Audrye was born and raised in the Capitol, which explains how un-District-Four like she looks, and had moved to District Four after she had taken a specific interest in our district. I'm glad she isn't a typical, fake woman from the Capitol though. She releases a sigh and looks at me. "Finnick… you're not doing very well in anything but education. You need to step it up."

"I _can't." _My voice is hoarse from the lack of communication the past few days.

Audrye gazes at me with sympathetic eyes and pats my hand. "Did you weigh yourself this morning?"

I give her a small nod in response.

"How many kilograms?"

"Seventy-two."

"You've lost nine kilograms in the past week, Finnick," she reprimands with a disapproving tone. "You need to gain that back. We have a private gym in the hospital just for these purposes. When was the last time you went?"

"Twenty-two days ago."

"Have you been sticking to your diet?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I skipped a few meals," I admit, dropping my head a little in shame.

Doctor Audrye sighs again. "You know very well that I expect you to stick to your diet and to go to the gym, so you can stick to a balanced weight. If you're physically weaker-"

"You're mentally weaker as well," I interrupt. "Got it, ma'am."

"How many hours of sleep have you had the past four days?"

"… Two hours."

She stands up and drags me by the shoulder to the solitary bed, specifically for patients, at the other end of her office. I'm forced to face the mirror and I gaze at the reflection. The boy in the mirror looks exhausted, almost like he's been high on ecstasy for the past few weeks. His eye bags are prominent and his facial features sag a little. His eyelids droop and his eyes no longer have the same lively specks of green in them. His usually chapped, smooth lips are now dry and cracked. His hair's shaggy, in dire need of a haircut, and there is an evident stubble present. All in all, he looks like utter shit, and the complete opposite of what he should look like.

I lie down onto the bed on my stomach, groaning as my back aches in the process. Audrye places her hands on my shoulders firmly and massages them, soothing the knots that have formed. In an equally soothing voice, she speaks, "In two weeks, Althea Yule, Gloss and Cashmere Delgado, and their Capital escort will be here for Althea's Victory Tour. You need to look your finest, Finnick, especially as the other most recent victor. You can't look like this; like... you've been digging your own grave for the past few weeks. I expect you to gain as much weight as possible, as muscle, whether it is to eat a whole lot of food or extra hours in the gym."

I moan as her palms dig through my thin singlet and into my back with more pressure, and it almost instantaneously relieves the pain in my back. Even though it's not the proper procedure, it's a good feeling. "I'll do what I can, Doc," I say. "But I have a lot of muscle already."

"You'd better," she warns. "You might have muscle, but you still lost a lot of it. We can't risk having your reputation tarnished. President Snow needs his citizens to be satisfied and that means he needs you."

My muscles tense as she mentions _his _name. "Relax," she barks, pushing my body back down onto the mattress. "You're all sore and tense. You need to let loose." She moves her hands in circles on my back and I find myself doing as she says.

"Like I said, I need you to step up. You need Vitamin D. Go out into the garden for a few hours a day so you look healthier." Her hands move down to my lower back, soothing the tension of my muscles there. "Also, I'm going to be there with a sedative in case you need it."

Oh yeah, _those. _For the past few months, I've had a lot of panic attacks. Most of the time, I don't remember them though. I find myself waking up and having people tell me what happened and what I did.

"Get

rid of those hideous eyebags and for God's sake, shave that scruffy beard of your face or I'll wax it off."

I can only laugh, despite her empty threat. "Threatening a man isn't a very favourable and attractive quality in a woman."

"Yeah, well, I'm not trying to impress anyone. You're no man anyway."

"You words hurt me, Doctor. They really do."

Audrye laughs a little and removes one of her hands from my back. I'm about to protest until she inserts a thin, sharp syringe into my bicep. I groan in irritation and close my eyes, when I realise that despite the fact that the massage was to help me with my tense muscles, it was also just a distraction.

"I hate you," I murmur before I drift off into a peaceful slumber.

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**A/N: This isn't a very eventful chapter but it introduces his doctor's character and gives an overview of what his hospital life is like. Feel free to drop a review on what _you _want happening in the future of this story :) I might even use your ideas. **


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you MsMKT86, HogwartsDreamer113, QuinnDeRavensborough, ArtermisCarolineSnow and Joe for reviewing! :) **

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**XXI. Althea Yule**

Althea Yule is a conniving, manipulating and overly expressive bitch, who can't - or more like, refuses - to keep her mouth shut. All throughout dinner, she would not stop garbling about how crap the other districts have been, and I can't help but think_, 'How the heck do Cashmere and Gloss deal with her never-ending bullshit?'_

My jaw clenches and unclenches. On my left side sits Althea and on my right, sits Gloss. Cashmere sits on the other side of Althea. Dr Audrye stands in the corner of the room holding a purse, which undoubtedly has syringes and sedatives just for me. She sends me a warning glare and I'm forced to keep my mouth shut. All I can do is shovel food in my mouth to avoid speaking to Althea Yule, which is still almost impossible.

Her Victory Speech mostly consisted of how much she enjoyed murdering the tributes in the arena. It was the same throughout almost all the Districts, as she had successfully claimed the most number of kills. It took Joseph, Dean and Shelley to hold me back, as she discussed with the crowd with how Maxwell's death was a dignified one, yet a pitiful one nonetheless. The words came flowing out of her mouth like verbal diarrhoea and all I could do was glare at her with hatred. Gloss had sighed irritably, confessing that she'd completely blown them off when he had written the cards out for her, and Cashmere cradled her head in her hands, just as annoyed.

"Does anybody else hate her as much as I do?" I grumble under my breath. Amphitrite kicks at my shin from across the table and gestures for me to shut up. Cashmere smirks, while Gloss lets out a bark of laughter, quickly covering it up with a cough.

Cashmere places her hand over my knee, sympathetically. "Try dealing with her as a mentor."

The grimace that pulls at my lips is unavoidable. I can only imagine both Althea and I either on the verge of tearing each other's hair out, or her flirting with me constantly. Either way, it would have been a rather horrible experience.

Dinner passes by rather uneventfully. It's silent, and I'm almost certain that everyone in the room is absolutely done with Althea's behaviour.

I find out that District Four holds a party for the Victor every year. It's held in the Justice Building and the place has completely transformed into something so _different_, that it looks similar to the insides of a few mansions in the Capital. The four of us - Gloss, Cashmere, Althea and I - sit by the bar, side by side. The girls sit together and engage themselves in what seems to be a one-sided conversation, and it's just my luck that Althea sits right next to me. Gloss set four glasses of wine on the table in front of us and says, "My shout."

"Mate, are you okay?" Gloss asks.

I purse my lips and answer with little hesitation. "Did you ever have nightmares after your Games? I mean… I'm just trying to find someone else's perspective since you went in as a Career. Still though, you were only fifteen - probably only a few months older than I was."

He takes a long drink and his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "Almost every night. Everyone gets nightmares. I don't doubt for a second that even Brutus has had at least one bad dream about his Hunger Games, or at least, a consequence of it," he laughs bitterly.

"You volunteered, right?"

"Correct."

"What is this? An interrogation?" he jokes.

I shake my head. "No, no. Like I said, I want another person's perspective."

"Yeah. I understand."

"Why'd you volunteer?"

Gloss stares at me for a few long seconds, as if scrutinising the insides of me. He exhales deeply. "Do you love anyone?"

I frown, confused. What would this have to do with my question? "Of course: my sister, my friends-"

"No," he interrupts. "I meant, do you _love_ anyone?"

It takes a moment to sink in what he means; _Am I in love with anyone_? As I ponder over the question, I realise that I have had a few crushes, which is normal. I have to admit, I did like Marlene - not all that much, but still, a little in a more-than-friends way. I've liked a few girls from school who aren't that bad. "No," is my reply.

"When you do, you'll realise that you'd do anything for her." His eyes glaze over, as if reminiscing or as if his head's in the clouds. "Vanessa was and still is beautiful, but there was one imperfection. She had a congenital heart defect - a hole in her heart, you could say. In training, she wasn't up to par and she grew tired more easily. Our families were one of the richest in the District, but that doesn't mean we could afford a high quality surgery for her. In fact, my father spent most of his earned money to plan Cashmere's arranged marriage. I mean, of course none of us liked it, but at least the guy was a decent boy."

"_She's married?"_ I blurt out without thinking.

He shoots me an annoyed glance and continues on with his story. "Cash isn't married. After she won her games, she threatened our father that she'd disown him, and the marriage, consequently, was called off. Anyways, Vanessa… Her heart was failing and she was going to die. The doctors predicted it'd be only a year. I might've been fifteen but I just _knew_ she was the one for me and I couldn't let her just die at that age. So, I volunteered. If you remember, I was actually labelled the leader of the Career pack in my Games, so I had the upper hand. I won and… I thought nothing could ever go wrong again with Vanessa's surgery, which was conducted by Capital doctors. Life would've been _perfect_ but… you know."

I nodded curtly, taking a long drink of the alcohol as he trailed off. I understood completely; Snow had forced both Gloss and Cashmere into prostitution. Joseph had once told me that the Capital paid a lot of money to have _both_ of them for the night. The thought of incestuous relations purely for the enjoyment of the Capital, absolutely sickened me to the core.

Gloss tapped his fingers against his glass of wine as he stared off into the distance with his jaw clenched. My eyes snapped to the golden band around his fourth finger. _"You're married?"_

"Yep," he replied, eyeing his ring proudly. "As of two months ago."

"Congratulations," I offered with a grin.

"Thanks, man. Snow wasn't really happy about it but he managed to let it slide, since I've returned so many _favours_."

My grin instantly turned into a frown at the mention of Snow. He continued on and I didn't bother interrupting. "I know what you're thinking - what Vanessa thinks of how I have to fuck the Capital whores, right? I can tell you, she wasn't happy about it at first. Whenever you find that girl of yours, she won't either. But Vanessa realised that it was to protect her and my family. She hates it but she knows I have to do it. Ever since you came into the market… I'm sorry, man, but I'm going to be blunt and honest. They'd want you more - men and women, alike. I'm positive that we'll both have customers for our services but a few of mine will most likely leave for you."

He gulps his drink down quickly and leaves without another words, leaving me frowning at an empty space.

"So do you have a girlfriend, Finnick?" The most recent Victor turns to me and bats her long eyelashes.

I don't know if I do it out of instinct or if I've grown to embrace the person I've been forced to become, but I allow myself to smirk at her. Cashmere excuses herself, despite my fruitless, subtle gestures for her to stay. Althea Yule smiles slyly, pressing her body against mine. "I'll take that as a no," she purrs into my ear.

Snaking my arm around her slim waist, I place the glass of wine back down on the table and run my nose down the crook of her neck. "Would you like to dance?"

It doesn't take a genius to know that the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. While I don't particularly like Althea - heck, she's one of the most despicable devils on earth - I think it's perfect to start fresh. _Kind of_. Doctor Audrye has constantly pestered me about at least, attempting to let go of the past and to pull myself together. Maybe it's the wine I've drank or the unstable state I'm currently in, but I'm determined to try.

I lead Althea to the dance floor and circle my arms around her waist as hers slither around my neck. "So how's the Victor life treating you so far?"

"It's been _perfect_," she gushes, ecstatically and her eyes light up. "The money and the glory I've received? Absolutely amazing. And plus, I live right next to Gloss." She giggles as she ends her sentence.

I hold back my grimace and can only imagine how _irritating _it must be for Gloss to live next to her. She'd probably be attempting to sneak glances at him through the window or something perverted. Does she not know about his marriage?

We dance for who knows how long, and I don't find it all that torturous. Althea can be pleasant company sometimes - when she's not attempting to shamelessly seduce me. We manage to strike up a few conversations during the party and by the end of the night, I'm sweating buckets.

To both my dismay and pleasure, the trio leaves for District Three. And as they do, I force myself to let go. I find that the art of letting go is a slow and arduous process. It involves effort and determination, and after a long year and a half, I've fought to build that effort and determination to let go. It's going to take a while, but I'm beginning to understand why Doctor Audrye is so frustrated with my behaviour and why Annie Cresta is so sick of me. I'm letting go to become someone I'm not.

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**A/N: How'd you guys find the bonding time between Finnick and Gloss? :) In case you don't follow me and haven't received an email, I've just posted the first chapter to Gloss' story! YAY! :D The story's called _Reaching Impossibility_. Go to my profile and go check it out! I hope you enjoy both this chapter and Gloss' story so far :) **


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you MsMKT68, HogwartsDreamer113, Joe and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :) **

**I've been receiving mostly the same questions/comments through PM and through reviews, so rather than PMing back, I'll just post FAQ part at the end of this chapter :) Also, this chapter is about two weeks before the 67th Hunger Games :) I just thought since nothing interesting really goes on from last chapter to the Games, I'll just write one chapter just prior to the Games. **

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**XXII. Stay **

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm pregnant!"

Doctor Audrye blurts out the most random thing of all. I can only blink and step back a little, examining her stomach. "What? When? _How?_"

"Well, you know, a man and a woman have sexual intercourse. The woman gets preg-"

"Yeah, got it, Doc," I interject. "But… _what?!_"

"What?"

"You didn't tell me you were married!" I exclaim.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Finnick, you don't need to be married to have kids."

"Who's the father?" I almost cringe at how _girly_ I sound. It's like I'm a part of a group of gossiping teenage girls who don't know when to stop talking.

"Dean Lasonga."

"What?!" I explode. "Are you fucking _serious_?! We're talking about Dean here, right? Amphitrite Lasonga's son?"

Doctor Audrye casts an amused, sidelong glance at me, her lips twitching upwards. "Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

I recline back on the seat and shake my head frantically. "No, of course not. I just… Wow, I did _not _see that coming... How old are you again?"

"Finnick, it's rude to ask a woman for her age," she admonishes. I chuckle in response and raise an eyebrow. "Twenty-one, and he's nineteen. If you're thinking about the age difference, don't you dare say anything because it means nothing."

Raising my arms up in defence, I reply, "Hey, I wasn't thinking that. It'd just be cool if you guys had informed me. I mean, Dean visits me every week or so, and the two of you never mentioned a thing! How did I not notice?"

"Maybe it's because boys are clueless when it comes to this," she offers.

"Or maybe you guys are just great actors," I grumble under my breath.

"Onto the bad news now," Audrye replies, offering me a sympathetic smile. "I have two things to say. One, I'll have to leave a few months into my pregnancy for maternity leave, but-"

"No!" I shout. "You can't leave me, Audrye!" I go down onto my knees and bow down, begging dramatically. "I'll do anything, just don't leave me with the devils alone! They're going to whoop my arse. Please!"

Audrye chuckles and brings me back up to my feet. "What am I going to do without you, Finnick," she sighs, shaking your head.

"You could have more love time with Dean," I offer with a suggestive wink. I'm rewarded with a soft punch to the shoulder. "That's not very doctor-like, Doc."

"I'm still going to be assigned to you, Finnic-"

"Man, you're _assigned_ to me?" I question, feigning hurt and placing a hand up to my heart. "That hurts, Doc. I thought you liked me."

She snorts. "Of course I like you and it was because I was assigned to you that I started to know you and liked you. _Anyways,_ let's continue on, shall we? I'll still be your doctor. You can come to me for check ups but I won't always be available. Pregnancy tends to make us women… uh, _hormonal_, you could say. Second thing is, you won't be going to the Capital this year for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. You'll be staying here."

I hesitate in my response, gnawing at my bottom lip. "Here as in the hospital… or here in District Four?"

"District Four," she confirms. "You'll have to stay in one place though; you have to anyway, unless you have school, since Peacekeepers are around."

"I'm going to school?" I ask, hopefully.

Her neutral expression falters and the corners of her lips turn downwards. "No. I'm sorry, Finnick, but you're not stable enough to go."

"I thought I was making improvement."

"You are. You really _are _making improvement and from what you've been through, it's an astounding performance. The thing is, you were in horrible shape before… You had suicidal thoughts before."

Pressing my lips together, I hang my head down in shame. "That wasn't really the best highlight of the past few years, hey?"

"Not really," she laughs softly. "But trust me when I say you're improving greatly. I mean, look at you. Your physical health has improved so much. Months ago, you were a scrawny kid who looked like he'd never picked up a razor and now you're, and I quote, a gorgeous diva. Obviously, your mental state has improved as well, but just not as much. It's safer for you to stay here, rather than go to the Capital and mentor, in case something triggers your panic attacks."

It's not that I _want _to go to the Capital, but I do at the same time.

Pro: I have the chance to potentially bring back a tribute, which will hopefully make me feel better.

Con: I turn seventeen only three months after the Games, officially enforcing the deal Snow and I have made.

Pro: I get to meet Cashmere and Gloss - although I really hope Althea doesn't tag along with them or I think I'll quite literally die.

Con: Like Doctor Audrye said, something may trigger my panic attacks.

"Can I stay at Oliver's place?" I ask her, as she sets a bunch of papers aside.

"Of course. I'll have to give him syringes and sedatives though beca-"

"But, Doc! You said yourself I'm fine!"

"You're not fine, Finnick. I said you're getting better, and it's just for precaution."

I slink back into my seat, crossing my arms. "Fine," I grumble.

"I've already called up President Snow and believe it or not, he's approving of your uh… delay in arrival. You'll have to make up for it though. He wouldn't want you looking bad in front of Panem."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I don't doubt it for a second."

We sit in an awkward silence for a while, taking turns to sigh and sniff. She sniffs, I sniff. I sigh, she sighs. It's like a process we have especially designed for awkward situations like these. I puff my cheeks out, not knowing what to say and tap the edge of my seat, my ADHD working up again. I stare at the floorboards of Doctor Audrye's office, intrigued by the design of the natural wood. My mind focuses on the concentric patterns and it's enough to distract me from my previous thoughts of President Snow.

"You'll still have to go to the reaping, dressed in your best," she speaks up. "You're an official and potential mentor for the Games. You'll only be sitting in the mentor's stand though."

"Do you know who's mentoring this year?"

"Dylan Marsden and Naya Rivers."

Dylan Marsden, Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games and Naya Rivers, Victor of the 32nd Games were polar opposites. Dylan was a brute Career who had no limitations. He murdered twelve year olds without a care for the world, even at the age of fifteen. He was a killing machine in his Games, with his number of kills almost rivalling to Brutus and Liberty Sterlinshire's twelve kills - both of whom had come from District Two and District One, respectively. All three of them had wiped out half the arena. Despite his past, he's different now. Everyone is… except maybe Brutus. Naya, however, was a different case. She was quiet, logical and rational. She'd claimed one kill in the arena and was a serene woman who understood others, a lot like Mags.

"They would probably work well together," I comment, nodding.

Doctor shrugs. "I have no idea who they are and know absolutely nothing about them, except for the fact that they've both been crowned Victor-"

Her phone buzzes, vibrating loudly against the table and a text message pops up onto the screen. Attempting to read backwards from my position, I manage to make out the name _Dean_. "From Lover Boy, eh?" I question, wriggling my eyes with a grin at her.

A blush creeps up onto her cheeks, tainting them with a light shade of pink. "Oh, hush. Go mingle with others or find your own Lover Girl."

I scowl at her, like she's lost her marbles. "Are you serious?" I demand. "The girls in here are crazy. They're not even crazy; they're freaking _out of their minds_. All they do is pet me like some lost puppy or some doll."

A bark of laughter escapes her lips, as she stands up to leave. "You know I can't express my opinions about that. Get some sleep, Finnick. You need it."

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**A/N: Hopefully things will grow to more interesting starting from now. Please review your thoughts! :) **

**Frequently Asked Questions: **

**Q. Are you British? **

**A. **No. I'm Australian, so I do use British English when I write. _Mom _will be spelt as _mum; __blond _will be spelt _blonde_; _candy _will be _lollies_. But there are a few Australian terms which mean completely different things in American (I learnt that the embarrassing way), so I'll definitely be avoiding a few words. British and Australians both use similar slang so if I include some of that in my writing, you now know why.

**Q. How often do you update?**

**A. **I don't know, to be honest. I like to try update once a week, especially with school going on. Outside of fanfiction, I have two ongoing stories on Wattpad (you should check them out!). However, I'll be completely four units of my HSC course this year (Year 10) and for the moment, I'll be watching heaps of Commonwealth Games. I'm planning on doing NaNoWriMo this year as well, so time is a little bit of an issue for me. Like I've said before, my updates are sporadic.

**Q. How long are your chapters? **

**A. **It depends. For _Trident Boy_ and _Reaching Impossibility,_ I like my chapters to be 1500-2500 words long. I know I go over and under, but really, I just end the chapter where I think would be better. Unfortunately, this chapter is rather short; I'm sorry for that. For _The Victors Of Panem_, I like my chapters to be around 500 words. If you go on my wattpad, you'll notice that I like my chapters to be 2500+ words.

**Q. Do you edit your work?**

**A. **Uh… I try? When I finish up writing a chapter, I'm usually in a rush to go off somewhere, so I have no time. When I do edit, I somehow skim over the errors so I apologise for mistakes in my stories!

**Q. Why do the characters call each other by their surnames? **

**A. **I didn't realise it was that obvious? I don't think I included much of that. At school on sports teams, we have a few people with the same names, so sometimes, we call each other by our surnames.

**Q. Will you be writing any other stories? **

**A. **Yes, of course. Like I've mentioned before, this is a part of a five-part series. I am, however, having second thoughts about that. Gloss' story will focus a lot on Cashmere, and so will Finnick's story with Annie. I'll probably pull those two out so it's a trilogy of Gloss, Finnick and Johanna. Maybe I'll add in a few chapters of Cashmere's and Annie's POVs :) Someone asked me about Haymitch's story? Aha, I'm not very interested in Haymitch's story, so I won't write one.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks to HogwartsDreamer113, Joe, QuinnDeRavensborough and MsMKT68 for reviewing! :) **

**My wattpad link is on my profile :) Links don't work on these chapters. **

**Have you guys seen the Mockingjay Part 1 teaser trailer? Oh my god, it's brilliant!**

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**XXIII. The Bloody Games **

"How in the world," I mutter under my breath, as I struggle to knot the tie. I've forgotten how to do this after so many years of wearing revealing, V-neck shirts. Somehow, I've managed to make a huge, strangled mess of the tie.

A pair of hands take the tie from mine and her nimble fingers complete the task for me. My eyes flicker up to Annie's and almost instantly, I look away like I've caught a virus from her. From my peripheral vision, I manage to see the faintest trace of a smile present on her lips. "You've improved a lot. You didn't look very good last time I saw you."

I offer a hesitant smile to her, finally looking at her. "Thanks. You grew a lot." And she has - by at least two inches. She's tall for a fourteen year old girl. Her hair's grown out to her waist, and her eyes are a bright shade of green, if that's even possible.

Annie beams at me. "Thanks. I'm almost as tall as Ayden!"

I gaze at her, questioningly as my mind draws a blank. "Who's that?"

A frown settles across her forehead and she smoothes out the length of her dress. "My boyfriend. I'll see you later."

Shrugging, I loosen the tie a little and undo the top two buttons of my shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to my elbows and I look at my reflection in the mirror, running a hand through my hair. I contemplate whether I should gel it back or not, but decide to leave it mussed up.

"Hey, man," Oliver greets, slapping me on the back as we walk to the Hall of Justice. "How're you feeling?"

"Good, good. Any idea who's volunteering this year?"

"Wesley Mitchell and Andromeda Zoerig."

"_Andromeda Zoerig?" _I reply. "Not surprising but I would've thought she'd volunteer next year or the year after."

Andromeda Zoerig. She is probably worse than Althea Yule, who already seems to have claimed the title of Queen Bitch. She brought knives to school, and was often seen balancing the handle on her fingertip. She'd vandalise the school property by carving into school tables with her weapons. Her nails would be at least an inch long and the sight of them would be cringeworthy. I've had several conversations with her and none of them would be anything I consider _pleasant_. A couple of times, she'd insulted and harassed both Rhea and Annie. I still haven't let go of the fact that she was planning on shoving Rhea into one of the school lockers.

Thank fucking God that I wouldn't be mentoring this year. If I did, I would've killed her before she'd step foot into the arena.

"I hope she dies in that arena," Oliver grumbles.

I nod along, refusing to agree through words. "Hey, Oliver. Whatever you do, don't volunteer."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Patting him on the back, I allow him to head over to the reaping area with his brother, Brody. I release a long sigh as I run my hand through my hair and sit down next to Joseph and two seats away from Mags. I plant a chaste peck on Mags' cheek and say, "I've missed you." She responds in a gargled manner.

"You look better," Joseph comments, staring straight ahead.

"Sorry about punching you," I apologise. "I was really out of line." It's been six months since I've last seen him and that time, was when I'd punched him several times the day my mother had died.

"Mate, don't sweat it. No harm done."

I send a smile at Shelley as she sits down between Mags and I. "Nice to see you out of the hospital," she comments with a smirk.

"Feels good too," I add.

Our conversation comes to an end as Venala takes her place onstage, strutting out in another peculiar outfit. I send her a subtle wink and a rosy blush forms on her cheeks. Shelley struggles to stifle a giggle and punches my knee. "Stop it." The video plays and I know it all too well by now. They talk about the Dark Days and the failure of the rebellion. She fishes her hand through the glass bowl for the girls.

There's no need to. Andromeda surges out from the crowd, whooping and punching her fists in the air with an eager, determined expression on her face. Rolling my eyes at her, I can't hold back the irritated sigh that escapes from my lips.

"Eamon Keeley." I take in a sharp intake of breath as I watch one of my mates make his way onstage. I come to realise that Wesley might not volunteer, especially after how Maxwell had been mutilated last year. But he does and I breathe out a sigh of relief, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Her stands at almost two metres. With much confidence, the bulky guy swaggers his way upstage and shakes Andromeda's hand. His hand is huge compared to hers, and the way he dwarves her is almost ridiculously hilarious.

"Give it up to your tributes this year, District Four! Andromeda Zoerig and Wesley Mitchell," Venala announces, "May the odds _ever _be in your favour."

For the next two weeks, I'm glued to Oliver's family couch. I squeeze in the living room with Oliver and Arden. The romantic gestures between the two of them are so sweet, it's almost disgusting. "There are children in the room!" I shout, jokingly, as Oliver leans in to kiss Arden. Brody and Syndi walk in only seconds later and we laugh.

Andromeda and Wesley are shown on screen for the Opening Ceremonies. They're dressed rather fashionably, with matching mermaid and merman outfits. Wesley holds onto a trident, much like I did exactly two years ago. Andromeda, on the other hand, quite literally looks like her body has been painted all over with scales, demonstrating the artistic skill of her stylist.

Days later, the scores of nine and ten are displayed for both Andromeda and Wesley, respectively. If I'm being honest, I never would have thought that Andromeda would receive a nine; I'd think she would've received higher and her actual score shocks me a little. "You'd think she would've gotten at least a ten," Oliver mutters.

Their interviews - oh, God _save _me - are in my opinion, horrendous. They both act charismatic, but brutal at the same time and those two personalities clash so much that they end up acting as arrogant bastards. They're worse than the pair from two, Althea Yule and Charis Rey all put together. They are bloody _insane_.

This year, the event takes place in a large cave, which held smaller caves inside. It's built much like a puzzle and it would take a lot of logic to figure out the maze-like area and only one contender seems to understand it - Krystal Haddock. It's often dark, and only a small amount of light seeps through the cracks of the caves.

The Games are bloodier than they have been ever since who knows when. They're bloodier than last year's when Althea claimed victory, and mine, and Cashmere's, and maybe even Gloss'. And from what I recall, Gloss was like the epitome of a killing machine at the age of fifteen. I'd only been twelve, nearly thirteen, when he had won. Father had pinpointed all the strong points and weaknesses of Gloss and the other tributes. Gloss had killed eight tributes, while I'd killed six. I had used a trident, knives and spears, while he utilised knuckledusters, knives and swords.

And while we both stuck to our preferred weapons, Andromeda and Wesley teamed up to claim what seemed to every single weapon known to mankind - with the exception of guns, of course. They take charge of the Careers. The number of deaths in the bloodbath is a whopping fourteen.

As the Careers slowly track down the other tributes, they capture them and torture them, incessantly. They flog them, pound them with knuckledusters, chop their fingers off and burn parts of their bodies. The Careers only laugh, sadistically at the screaming actions of their victims without mercy. It sickens me to the stomach. I pull on my hair, breathing unevenly and my heart going on an all too familiar overdrive. My hands become clammy with cold sweat and it feels as if Oliver and Arden's stares are burning through my soul, tearing me apart into pieces. The syringes and sedatives that Doctor Audrye has provided Oliver, come into use.

When I wake up a day later, I see Wesley raping the girl from District Seven, an act that's disapproved of by God. I find Arden hiding her face in the crook of Oliver's neck, as he rubs her arm soothingly. "This is disgusting," she murmurs, and he whispers sweet nothings in her ear. Despite the timing, I envy their relationship. I want to love someone the same way they love each other, and I want someone to love me the way I love them.

Brody watches the Games with us, demanding that he needs to everything good and bad about the Games, just in case he's ever reaped, which I'm hoping will never happen. He has four more years before he's safe, and Oliver has two. Syndi, on the other hand, has been forced to stay in her room by Oliver, and I don't blame him for doing so.

While the citizens of the Capital love the inevitable brutality of the Games, it's no assumption that they aren't particularly fond of what's happening. I guess burning, sexually harassment and excessive amounts of torture aren't very favourable in the Capital. When only eight tributes remain, Andromeda and Wesley manage to cut the number of tributes down to six even further, quickly eliminating the pair from District One, leaving the pair from Two and Four to battle it out. The girl from Two manages to escape, while the boy stumbles into one of our district's traps. Stupid move.

With the sponsor money of the Careers quickly plunging down, Krystal Haddock's sponsor money skyrockets. She's the female tribute from District Ten this year. She's fairly short, with lean muscles, though she doesn't look particularly strong. She kills off the leftover of the lesser districts - Theo from District Five, - as well as the boy from Two. Her tactic is to sneak up on the other tributes and hit them in the head with the blunt handle of her axe, before landing the final blow with the blade.

I almost feel like crying in satisfaction as Krystal silently throws her axe at the back of Wesley's head, killing him in an instant. For a moment, I fear that Andromeda gains the upper hand when she's realised what's happened to Wesley. She turns around, clutching her double-crossed swords in tight grips with a snarl. "Let's make the interesting, girly. I win, you lose. I think the Capital's all figured this out." She continues on and on, about how she will march home with victory, but she wastes too much time with words. Krystal has already pulled her axe out of Wesley's skull and shoved it into Andromeda's chest. Only seconds later, the eighteen year old girl from District Ten is announced Victor of the 67th Hunger Games.

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**A/N: My shift key is broken - sorry if there are a lack of capitalizations Dx Can we reach 100 reviews?! :) **


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, MsMKT68, Joe and QuinnDeRavesborough for reviewing! :) **

**Okay, this chapter is a little… different from usual. I spent a few days wondering, "What the hell am I going to write next?" since I had absolutely _no idea_ on what events to put leading up to the 68th Hunger Games. And then, it hit me. This chapter will be written from _Annie's POV_. **

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**XXIV. Annie's POV - Grave Hearts**

The first of December is a day where everyone visits the cemetery. It's a tradition in District Four. It's only one day a year; visiting the dead on a day that isn't the first of November is considered to be bad luck. It may as well being some lame superstition, but I'd rather not take my chances. Whether it be that you visit during the middle of the night, during work hours or at the crack of dawn, you have to pay your respects and honour the memories of fallen family and friends.

Finnick and I walk side by side as we enter the gates. I nod in acknowledgment to the man handling the visitors and stroll past the majestic, black gates. Rows and rows of gravestones are sectioned off in different areas. They're all decorated with flowers, food and other ornaments. Rhea had originally planned to come with us, but group projects for school got in the way. She'd visited earlier in the morning, leaving the two of us to pay our respects together. In our hands, we bear bundles of roses and daffodils, as well as paper bag filled with goods. Prior to arriving at the location, we'd come to a mutual agreement that we would stick together, rather than wander off alone and get lost.

While District Four is usually constantly buzzing with joy, today isn't so much the case. The greying skies reflect my emotions perfectly as Finnick and I walk where our parents' graves are situated. The wind whips by, harshly, causing my hair to mess up and obstruct most of my view and method of communication. Pulling a few strands of hair out of my mouth, I slow down my pace as Finnick comes to a halt.

_With love, we remember Patricia Claire Beattie-Cresta: loving wive, mother and sister. _

_In the fondest memory of Aleksander Leon Cresta: loving husband and father._

_May you rest in peace for the rest of eternity. _

Surrounding the graves, are decorations which have been set out by people who'd come to pay their respects earlier. As I stare down at the gravestone blankly, the words are stuck in my throat. I might be only fifteen, but I understand more than a typical fifteen year old would; just like Finnick, who has only just turned seventeen a week ago. "Can we go to your parents' graves first?" I ask Finnick, my voice scratchier than normal.

"Their gravestones are further back," he insists. "And further back are the fallen from Hunger Games. It's more convenient like this."

I kneel down on the gravel, placing my items on the ground. Taking a deep breath, I manage to compose myself before I start speaking. "I honestly don't know where to start," I begin, laughing dryly. "Ma… Papa, I miss you both so much. Even though you've been gone since I was ten, you're not really _gone_, gone. You're still here. I remember you every single day and night, and I just _miss _you. Come back to me."

My voice cracks a little as I wipe the corner of my eye. "Guess what? I made it into the District's swimming competition for under eighteen's. You two would be so proud of me, and I wish I could celebrate with you and Maya…" I trail off, reminiscing the times when Pa had taught me how to swim, and laugh a little. "I remember when you always told me I was like a mermaid, Pa, constantly wanting to be in the water. I suppose it's grown on me."

I can sense Finnick's looming presence behind me. And while it's a little awkward and embarrassing to know that he's listening to everything I say, I find it comforting too, because he knows how I feel. I cast a brief glance back at him. "Finnick says I'm getting better at fighting and training; I'm one of the best at throwing knives now in the Training Centre. He and Mags have been taking great care of me ever since I've moved in with the Odair's.

I release a sigh as I struggle to find the words to say. It's been five years since they've died and I'm used to that by now. Each year, I say almost the same thing and I find that it's getting a little old. I'd never been that close to my parents, anyway. In our family, it had always been, 'Maya this, Maya that,' and often, I'd feel inferior and insecure due to the constant comparisons to my elder sister. I had made the most foolish mistake in my life to ignore my parents, thinking they absolutely despised my existence. Despite being young, I managed to close everyone off. I never realised how lucky I was until it was too late. "I'm sorry; I don't really have much more to say since nothing much has changed since last year, but... I've brought a few things for you."

Scouring through one of my bags, I manage to pull out a candle and light it up, as does Finnick. He doesn't speak though but he pays his respects anyway. We set the candles down on each side of the gravestones, placing a cluster of white daffodils on both. Aside from the rushing of the wind, it's silent between the two of us. Gingerly, I place wreath right between the two gravestones, making sure its placing is perfect. Pursing my lips, I hesitate before standing back up. "I love you."

My body's numb as Finnick and I walk further back. It's like my legs have turned into lead, as my heart squeezes from guilt and sorrow. I should've been more open to them.

"Whatever happened between you and your parents, don't dwell on it," he says.

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" I reply. He's _always_ dwelling on his parents' death.

He opens and closes his mouth several times and then licks his bottom lip. "It's different."

I don't reply. We've arrived at his parents' gravestones.

_In the sweet, loving memories of Jon Darren and Mariana Leona Odair. _

Finnick inhales, sharply and it doesn't take a genius to note that he's nervous. It's his first time visiting his mother, ever since her status of _deceased _was official. I watch him crouch down and stare in front of him for a few long moments. I stay behind him, but shuffle a little closer, in case one of his panic attacks occur again.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," he starts off. "To both of you. I-I could have saved the both of you, but I _didn't_. I could have stopped everything that happened when I came back from the Games but I failed you. My own _parents__; _just how pathetic am I? I must be the worst son in the fucking _world_, and brother as well. I've been stuck in hospital for a year and maybe even longer, and I just _left _Rhea and Annie to fend for themselves. Mags helps sometimes but she's getting old and I can't get her to do everything. Amphitrite and Shelley, as well - they help but they're busy too. I can't just rely on them to do everything. _I'm _responsible for them now but have I done anything? _No_."

He pauses for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling on it slightly out of anger and frustration. "I turned seventeen last Thursday, and… And that's when the _deal _begins. I'm… I don't know what to expect. I _hate _that. I know what I'm going to do, but what _exactly _is it that I'll be doing? _When? Who?_ I'm just so scared."

Finnick's shaking in anger by now. He raises his right arm up, and punches the ground, releasing his pent up frustration. The gravel and small pebbles beneath us imprint on his fist, scratching his knuckles roughly.

"Hey," I snap at him. "Stop that." I have no idea what this 'deal' is, but I force myself not to question it.

He pays me no attention. "And there's this girl. I don't even know how I feel about her, honestly. Sometimes, I hate her. Sometimes, I like her. She's like a bottling set of emotions. The girl's just so _annoying _sometimes. Other times, she's sweet and caring and all. She's just… I can't even describe her." Finnick runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs. "Aside from this, I've been living in the hospital lately. For eleven months actually. I've only made one friend there and she's my doctor but I'm fine with that, I guess. I don't like the people there… It's like they're half dead, and half alive at the same time. And… it's just reminds me of you, mum. When you were laying in your hospital bed, when I couldn't do anything but _watch, _when I didn't _know_ what was happening to you, and when…"

As he breaks down into sobs, it's now that I realise that I've been crying as well. Wordlessly, I sit down next to him. His breathing turns ragged and shallow as he buries his face in the palms of his hands, and my heart aches at the sight of him. He's a mess, and looks so _innocent _rather than a murderer. And as I take in what I see before my eyes, I realise how _wrong _I'd been about him. He's no murderer - he killed out of necessity. I'm ashamed of my actions. When he needed family and friends the most, I wasn't there. I haven't even visited him once ever since he was located to the hospital. The only times we've interacted have been the few times he's received a free pass. He comes home every time, and _that's _when we talk. He's the one who comes to me. I never bother to comfort him when he's at his lowest point. I've never noticed how the guilt of killing six tributes and his parents' death has been eating him inside out. From school, I've learnt that guilt can reach such a point that it emotionally drains a person, releases a poison and in turn, kills them in the process. I've never seen _anyone _like this.

I squeeze my eyes shut, tightly, disconcerted with my incredibly selfish actions. Unsure of what to do in such a situation, I gingerly place a hand on his shoulder as his body racks with sobs. We sit there for a few minutes, unaware of other people visiting their loved ones. He's not ashamed of crying and I find that quite the admirable trait. Finnick leans into my touch, frantically wiping his eyes as he rests his forehead against my shoulder for a few brief moments. "Sorry about that," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, but I hear it loud and clear.

"Don't apologise," I say.

He stands up slowly and glances down at me with red eyes for a brief moment, before rummaging through his bag. He retrieves two vanilla-scented candles and lights them carefully, much like we had earlier and gently places them on the gravestones. A bouquet of flowers is placed upon the carved dent between the two gravestones, along with a cross that's decorated with gold lining. He closes his eyes, murmurs a prayer and crosses his heart. "I love you."

I stare at his outstretched hand, shocked, but take it anyway and he pulls me up. Finnick takes the lead like usual, and I follow him. We navigate our way through the labyrinth of gravestones and finally open the gates to the fallen victims of the Hunger Games.

_Too good in life to be forgotten in death_, it reads. _Maya Blake Cresta. Ranked fifth in the 65th Annual Hunger Games. _

"Do you want to go first?" I ask, uneasily, twiddling my thumbs. After two years, I still haven't visited her. It feels as if guilt has become a vice-like grip, clenching around my heart, and the unsettling emotion bottles in the pit of my stomach.

"Do you?" he replies, and I shake my head. I sit down at the base of the tree located two feet away, resting my chin on my knees.

"Hey, Maya," he greets with a small smile. His fingers twitch, as if aching for something to play with or to touch. "I've missed you. So much has changed since we last talked. I mean, I've basically been deserted in a hellhole for the past year. Doctor Audrye's great but it's just not the same. Can you believe that my doctor is four months pregnant with Dean Lasonga's child? I still can't get the fact wrapped around my head," he laughs. "Besides, she's fun to make fun of. Just like you. Annie's been great, I'm pretty sure. I've tried training her and Rhea as much as I can and they just keep getting better and better. She misses you a lot, you know?"

"And there's this girl I just need to tell _somebody _about," he repeats from his speech to his parents and he laughs. "She's quite annoying sometimes but maybe that's just because of my issues right now. Otherwise, she's a great girl. Sure, we have maybe a small age difference but I can't help it. She's smart, beautiful, and has the cutest freckles I've ever seen, and has a smile that could light up the room. But she barely smiles, which really sucks. I have no clue on what to do."

It's not hard to notice that he's much happier when he's reconnecting with Maya, especially with how his behaviour is vastly contrasting with his behaviour when interacting with his parents. Despite the waterworks that are starting to form, his green eyes light up and he looks more like his old self. "It's been two years and five months, and I know you told me not to wallow over your death and to move on, but I can't just do the latter. I'm trying, I really am. And I'm doing my best, but it'll take more time, but I don't mind. As much as I'd love for you to be _here_, I've accepted the fact that you're not, and that you're happy where you are now. I can only wish you the best, wherever you are, whether it be with your parents or in heaven."

He reaches into his pocket, bringing out a crumpled sheet of paper and recites, "Softly the leaves of memory fall, gently I gather and treasure them all. Unseen, unheard, you are always near; so missed, so loved, so very dear."

Finnick sits next to me, staring at me expectantly. "Are you going to go? It's your turn."

"Uh…" I utter out, moving my hair so that it curtains my flaming red cheeks. "I… I don't…"

"If you want privacy, it's fine. I can go," he offers.

"It's not that," I say. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare down at the ground before us. "It's just…"

"You haven't visited her." It's not a question - it's a statement. All I can do is bob my head up and down, making sure not to look at him.

"Well, here's your chance. She was your sister. I _know _you miss her."

"You don't know that."

He stares at me, skeptically. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know that you still visit that cave you and Maya used to always go to. You go there to think about her. You refuse to talk about her, but that just means that you miss her and you don't want to mention or hear about anything _bad_. You cover it up pretty well but I know you enough."

If life has taught me anything, it's that Finnick Odair is as stubborn as a mule. He refuses to take no as an answer. Since he's two years my senior, I find it in myself to believe that he's wiser than me and I sit in front of Maya's gravestone, cross-legged. I purse my lips, attempting to create a monologue in my mind. _How do I start? _Finnick seems to notice my internal struggle and suggest, "Just go with the flow."

And I do.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited you, Maya," I blurt out. "I really am. It's just… It's _hard_, you know? I swear you'll absolutely despise me now. You'll be so ashamed and disappointed in me, because even _I _am ashamed of myself. I've been so goddamned _selfish_ for the past few years. I've blamed almost every bad thing on Finnick and I know that's unfair for him because he doesn't deserve it. You _told _me not to blame him and I did anyway."

By now, I'm rambling, though I haven't completely comprehended that I am. If I'm being honest, I'm not one for tears but after being disconnected from my sister for so long, I just can't stop the waterworks from flowing after all the emotions I've kept bottled up inside of me for the past two years. Vaguely aware of Finnick eavesdropping, I continue on. "I can still remember the hurt, betrayed look in his and Rhea's eyes when I said that Mrs Odair wasn't my mother. She wasn't my biological mum, but she just _was _my mother in more ways than one. I don't think I can ever forgive myself for that… And then there's Ayden. He's my boyfriend. He's charming, sweet, handsome, everything _perfect _in a guy but I feel like we're best friends trying too hard to be something more. I feel so guilty to be leading him on but then if I do break up with him, it'll hurt him just as much. I just don't know what to do; God, I'm such a mess." _  
_

I hunch over slightly, pulling at the roots of my hair lightly in frustration. "I-I just keep hurting and disappointing everyone around me. Ma, Papa, _you_, Mr and Mrs Odair, Rhea, Finnick… next, it'll probably be Mags and she's the sweetest lady I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I'm a failure. _Why_ do I keep hurting people?" My voice is raw, and my eyesight blurs a little. Tears as well as light raindrops roll down my cheeks relentlessly. "I've been trying so hard to break out of this shell I've built up, just like you suggested in that letter. But I've just never built up the courage to actually talk to you. I do in my mind but… Just don't worry about me. Rhea, Finnick and I can take care of ourselves. Wherever you are, I hope you're happy. I love you _so much_."

My sobs become silent as I reach out tentatively, to place my last wreath and bouquet of roses on her gravestone. I struggle to light the candles with my shaky hands. A frustrated sigh escapes my lips and a pair of larger, warmer hands complete the task for me. Almost all of my sorrows disappear the moment he pulls me into his arms, enveloping his arms around my waist. My fist clenches onto the fabric of his shirt as I press my face against his chest, salty tears soaking the clothing. "You've grown up," he says.

I laugh. I don't know why, but I laugh. "Thanks?" I reply.

Finnick plants a kiss on the top of my head and pulls back a little. I frown a little as his warmth disappears. "I need to go visit to another person. After that, let's go home, yeah?"

Nodding, I wipe all traces of tears away from my face. "Yeah, sure. I'll wait for you here… and sorry about that."

He chuckles, "Don't worry about it."

_Who else would he need to talk to? _

I watch as he walks the few steps over to his right and places the last bundle of flowers down.

_Maxwell Aaron Summers. Ranked 4th in the 66th Annual Hunger Games._

_His life an inspiration; his death a benediction. _

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**A/N: Obviously, this chapter is quite the stepping stone to the building of Annie and Finnick's relationship. I actually fangirled a little over my own writing this chapter because you know, Fannie moments ^_^ I hope you liked it :) **


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113, BlueBlueBird, Princess976, QuinnDeRavensborough and Joe for reviewing! :) **

**This chapter is back to Finnick's POV.**

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**XXV. The Deal**

"Think of it like this. The trident isn't _like _an extension of the arm; it _is _an extension of the arm and it should feel natural. If it doesn't, then it's either too heavy or too light. Get another one," I say. "Primarily, the trident is more of a piercing weapon, rather than one for intense battle. Smack, twist, stab and repeat."

The group I'm teaching is a combination of eleven to fifteen year olds. Several struggle, and others seem to get the jist of it. Out of my peripheral vision, I watch as Shelley teaches how to fight with knives. While I was rather talented with wielding a knife, I wasn't entirely accurate. The two of us had only about ten minutes of teaching left, until we are off for the day.

"And remember that the trident won't necessarily be in the Cornucopia, but it's good practise for attacking with a spear. It's heavier, it's easier. If you can use the trident, you can use the spear."

Bettina, a girl around thirteen struggles to lift up the weapon and heave it into the dummy. I retrieve a lighter trident and swap it with her current one. "Your footing is incorrect," I say, demonstrating how her feet should be positioned. "Lunge forward with one leg – not so much that all your weight is on it – and extend your arm forward."

I take a step back, giving her some personal space as she thrusts the three prongs into the heart of the dummy. It's a weak push but it's a push, nonetheless. "Good, but a bit more force into it."

Watching from afar, I note all the flaws that each and every one of them make, and then point them. Improvement isn't much of an issue in the Training Centre; it's fairly significant with the way most trainees are constantly progressing with their skills.

I look around the Training Centre. There are only two main clusters of groups; the rest of the trainees are either sparring or practicing by themselves. Annie stands in the far end, sparring with Ayden once again. My lips curl up into a smile as Ayden claims victory. Not once have I seen Annie win against him.

My mind casts back to two days ago, when we had visited the cemetery together. I had just broken down in front of her, and to this moment, I still want to believe that it had been a dream. But it wasn't. I'm almost certain that she's broken up with Ayden, and the two of them ended things on good terms.

And when I'd talked to my parents and Maya, I just couldn't help but spill about _her_. Her name had almost slipped out of my mouth and _God_, that would have been embarrassing if I hadn't managed to catch myself. I can briefly understand why Cashmere is so opposed to be involved in a romantic relationship. Of course, the prostitution is also part of the reasoning.

I'm brought out of my thoughts as a familiar black-haired girl taps me on the shoulder with the blunt end of her trident. "Your class ended two minutes ago, Odair," she says.

Blinking, I stare at her surprised. "Really?" I cast a brief glance around the centre and realise that the class really is over. "Sorry, I was thinking."

"Obviously."

"How come you're here so often now?" I inquire.

Marlene has been coming to the Training Centre day and night, when she's not at home or at school. It's almost like her second home. I've noticed how she's been putting valiant effort into mastering each and every single weapon. She's worked her arse off, studying all the poisonous plants, how to light a fire, how to net and trap, and how to fight. There's not a second that I don't see her in here.

Her gaze averts for a moment before she looks back at me. "I'm volunteering, either for the 68th or 69th Games."

"_What?! _You can't bloody do that!" I'm overwhelmed with numerous emotions: anger, hurt, confusion. Why in the world would Marlene Summers, of all people, want to volunteer? Yes, she can be brutal at times and yes, she has the traits of a typical Career but she's not ruthless enough to volunteer – at least, not with how I see things.

"And why the hell not? You can't tell me what to do."

"I can't but as your friend and I can try to talk you out of it. Are you out of your _mind_?"

"No, I'm not!" she exclaims. "I'm volunteering and that's that."

"And what do you plan on receiving in return?" I argue back. "Victory? Fame? Glory?"

"To avenge my brother's death!" Marlene screeches at me.

"Do you _want _your gravestone to be planted next to _his_? It's harder than it seems to win, you know."

"What makes you so fucking sure that I'm going to die in the arena? I've been training every single day because it's not that I _want _to avenge Maxwell. I _need _to. Wouldn't you want to avenge Maya's death?"

I stay silent, suddenly aware of how quiet the Training Centre has become. Flickering my gaze towards Annie, I notice her grin falter. Her eyebrows crease together in the middle of her forehead as she trails off whatever she'd been saying to Ayden.

"Oh, wait a second… Of course you wouldn't. _You _were the one who killed her," Marlene accuses, pointing her trident at me threateningly.

All I can do for the moment is stare at her. "You have absolutely _no right _to talk about her. You don't understand _anything_, Marlene."

"Of course I understand," she replies, throwing her arms up in the air as she glares at me. "_You're _the mentor for next year and the year after, and the reason you don't want me volunteering is because you don't want the burden of my potential death on your shoulders. It's always about _you_: Finnick Odair, golden boy of the Capital. Well, guess what? I don't want you as my mentor. I'll take Joseph, or Dylan or Amphitrite, because all you do is look pretty and gain sponsors. And then, you killed off your own district partner – your _best friend_, who volunteered for your sister."

"_I didn't kill her!" _I roar at her. "Did you not watch? She begged and _begged _for me to do it. Would you rather watch Maxwell suffer from bleeding to death or let him die quickly? Because I sure as hell would feel even guiltier than I do now, if I had chosen the latter. You can't just go around making judgements about me because of what I did in the arena. I didn't _choose _to participate. There was nothing else we could do. You can't accuse me of anything, because you don't _understand _what it's like. You want to volunteer? Fine. Do just that but I won't be here to pick up the pieces if you _do _win."

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, dragging me out the door before I can further scream profanities at the girl. "Calm down, Finnick," Shelley says.

"Get off me," I snap at her, shoving her hand off me. I storm home, slamming the front door behind me. As I walk into the living room, I'm met with Mags who sits on our couch, knitting away. "Hey, Mags," I greet her, with a half-arsed smile.

She grins a gummy smile back at me and offers a wave, the moment Rhea comes in. She looks flustered, and in one hand, she holds the phone. "President Snow's asking for you, Finnick."

_And just when my mood couldn't get any worse_.

I frown at the inanimate object she bears and she asks, "Is this a bad time? I can tell him to call ba-"

Fearing the worst, I take the phone. "No. I'll talk to him."

"Hello, Mr Odair."

"Hi," I reply, curtly. "Is there anything you want?"

"There's a train in District Four right now and it leaves it twenty minutes. I expect you to be on that train and once you arrive in the Capital, you'll be escorted to one of my associate's offices."

"Do I need to pack anything?"

"No. But if you want to bring anything, nobody's stopping you."

"How long will I stay?"

"Two weeks or so. Maybe longer, depending on how satisfactory you are."

The line goes flat and I bring the phone away from my ear, slamming it onto the table. Ignoring Rhea's protests, I go upstairs and simply _stare_ at my room, without any idea on what to pack or what to do. Do I pack clothes, or will the Capital supply me with them? And before I know it, twelve minutes have passed and I've wasted that time thinking over useless things and pacing around the room. I manage to pack a few items of clothing into a bag within the next few minutes. I take a quick shower, and throw on a shirt and trousers, hoping that time would go back a few minutes.

"What's going on? Finnick, where are you going?" Rhea shoots question after question at me, as I reach for the front door. "Don't ignore me. What did President Snow want?"

Instead of replying with a legitimate answer, I leave her behind. "I'll see you later," I say, kissing the top of her head softly. "Look after Mags and Annie while I'm gone. I'll be back, I promise."

"Hey, Finnick, where are you going?!" I hear Doctor Audrye exclaim as I walk out the Victor's Village. I look back and the first thing I see is her bloated stomach.

"The Capital."

"Oh," she replies. "But you're still not well enough."

"Yeah, well, I kind of have to go," I say, running a hand through my hair.

"Bring me back some strawberries, Finnick!"

Dean walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kisses her on the cheek. "Sweetheart, you're allergic to strawberries."

"Oh."

I would've laughed if it wasn't for the situation at hand. I bid my final goodbyes to them and scurried onto the train, the moment before the doors shut.

I spend the next few hours, pacing around the train. I don't sit down on the couches, or appreciate the mahogany dining tables. Nor do I bother to touch the food that's been laid out especially for me. I pace, hoping for the best despite the fact that it'll be the worst. The hours seem to drag on and on, and I feel as if my life has never gone by so slowly before.

When the train finally does come to a halt, it's evening and the dusk looks beautiful on the horizon. It's possible that it's an illusion, but I choose not to believe it as one of the chauffeurs drive me to an unknown destination. The Capital is buzzing with excitement. Several times, we almost crash into a few women as they struggle to pull my window down. "Finnick!" I hear the scream over and over again.

"Mr Odair," the driver says a few minutes later, gesturing for me to get out. "The Avox will guide you in."

I offer a smile at the woman dressed in red. She holds a white slip of paper in her hands and gesture for me to come along with her. We walk through the labyrinth of rooms, weaving left and right through the hallways. It seems to go on forever and as we walk, I can't help but think that this could serve as an arena for the Hunger Games. In my lifetime, there hasn't been a maze arena - at least, not that I can remember.

We finally arrive at an empty waiting room. Its isolation causes an unnerving emotion to settle in the pit of my stomach and it suddenly feels harder to breathe; like the walls are closing in on me. The Avox watches me, and I squirm under her intense gaze. Thankfully, the door slams open and Cashmere walks out.

"_Cashmere_?" I ask, surprised to see her here.

She offers a tight smile and a meaningful glare at me, and leaves without another word. The Avox leads me into the room down the corridor, holding her palm out with her fingers pointing towards the door. She smiles slightly and nudges me to go in.

"Thank you," I say to her before I walk in.

A man in a rather professional suit sits before my eyes. His shiny, black hair is gelled black and his blue eyes stare at me like he's won a grand prize. His lips are curved up into a sinister, yet calm smirk as he looks at me up and down. "Mr Odair," he says. "It's nice to finally meet you. Take a seat. I'm Cordelius Sinello."

The same initials as President Snow. _Great_.

"Nice to meet you," I reply, shaking his hand and taking a seat.

"I'm sure you're fully aware of the deal you have with Coriolanus Snow, and you start when you're seventeen. Am I correct?"

"That's correct."

"I'm here just for clarifications. If you ever have a question, you come to me, but right now, I'm here to explain to you what you'll be doing over the course of the next two weeks and further onwards." Cordelius pauses for a moment and when he realises that I won't reply, he continues on. "Whenever you come to the Capital, you'll be staying in the Training Center; in your case, you'll be staying on Level Four. You will receive a red slip of paper with an address and a time. When you leave, there will be a chauffeur who will drive you to where you need to go. I'm sure you're aware of any… _consequences_ that may occur if you choose to deny a request."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, sir. Is there anything else?"

"The Capital is well aware that you are not a virgin but the highest bidder, Axelia Whittemore is willing to pay four million to be the first woman in the Capital to have you firs-"

"_Four million?_" I repeat. "That's crazy!" I don't deny the fact that I'm not a virgin. It's a false statement, but I'll let them think whatever they want.

"When you're not needed," he continues on, as if I hadn't interrupted. "You are free to do whatever you please. I'm sure you saw Miss Delgado just several minutes ago. She'll be staying for the same amount of time as you. Additionally, you are also needed to spend three months here, within the time span of a year. You may choose to stay longer-" _Yeah, right_. "-but you cannot choose to stay for even a day less than three months. However, you may choose when you want to come: three months in a row, you can split it up into weeks, days - as long as you complete your job. Do you have any questions?"

"No," I reply, instantly. "I understand."

"Then, I have nothing more to say. You're dismissed."

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**A/N: This chapter was originally going to be a lot longer but I decided to stop it here, because I wanted to know what _you _guys think. Starting next chapter, Finnick obviously starts going off with Capital women. I definitely won't be writing everything sex-related in detail ('cause y'know, I'm only in high school) but I want to know what you guys are comfortable with. Please review, otherwise I won't be able to know what you guys want with this! Also, I'm not completely sure when I'll update next, since I have exams coming up. **


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, QuinnDeRavensborough, Joe and MsMKT68 for reviewing! :)**

**Uh… so, I intend on keeping this story T-rated. I won't go into _too _much detail but if you feel queasy, just skim past anything you're not comfortable with reading. For any future chapters, I'll put a warning in the Author's Note before the chapter starts. **

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**XXVI. Raw**

"What are you doing here?" is the first thing I ask when I enter the fourth storey of the Training Centre. Cashmere sits on the couch, picking at her nails in the same red dress I'd seen her coming out of Cordelius' office.

"What?" she replies. "I can't just visit you?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I was hoping to see you six months ago, you know? Turns out it was just Dylan and Naya. I mean, I don't mind them. They're just not as interesting as you. Plus, you're the only victor around our age."

"I was… sick. Anyway, you have Althea," I point out.

Cashmere pulls a face in response. "No," she states. "And you weren't sick. You were just recovering." She pulls out a sheet of paper and pencil, scribbling away as she speaks. "I was stuck mentoring with her. Gloss and Vanessa are expecting a baby."

She slips the piece of paper into my hand and I look down to read it.

_Have you lost your virginity yet?_

I take the pencil from her, drawing two sets of parallel lines: horizontal and vertical, setting out a tic tac toe layout. "Really? Same with Dean and Doc Audrye. How far along is Vanessa?" I draw a big fat X in the middle square.

She purses her lips, licking them slightly. "Around seven months. There's another two months before she pops, and she already looks like she's about to explode."

A chuckle escapes my lips as I lean over her shoulder to read what she wrote.

_First kiss?_

Almost ashamed, I hesitantly shake my head, a blush creeping up my neck. Cashmere stares at me surprised for a moment before she pats the space on the couch next to her. "Sit," she demands. When I do, she crosses her legs professionally and looks at me.

"Gloss once told me something."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Really, now? I never would have thought he'd tell you anything," I say, sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes and nudges my knee. "You know what I mean. He once told me that whenever I have a date with a man _or _woman in the Capital, I should never kiss them on the lips."

"Isn't that what they want though?"

"Yes. Maybe," she replies. "But that doesn't mean you have to _start _the kiss. We - you and I - aren't committed to a relationship or anything, but if or _when_ we are, we'll feel guilty if we ever start a kiss with a stranger. Do you get me?"

_Kind of_. I nod along.

"Since our job is to pleasure or to satisfy their wants and needs, _we're_ the submissive ones. We don't say no to them. Kiss their neck, cheek, shoulder, _whatever_ but don't start a kiss. If they kiss you on the lips, then you have to go along with it."

"Huh?" is my only smart response. "You're overusing the word _kiss_, Cashmere."

She rolls her cerulean blue eyes again. "Just don't kiss them unless they kiss you. Oh, and also, don't make 'love' to them."

This time, I understand. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" I ask her. "Next time, speak in English."

"You know, I'm actually surprised. Most people have their first kisses by the time they're sixteen and I would've expected you to have at least one affair with a girl."

I shrug. "Not interested in a relationship. I've been preoccupied with other things."

The next thing she does takes me off guard. Within a split second, she's lunged forward and planted her lips on mine. My eyes widen for a brief moment before I close them, kissing her back.

And it all comes naturally to me. Her lips, smooth, warm and welcoming, mold against mine almost perfectly. Instinctively, I draw her in closer towards me, running my fingers through her soft hair and across the nape of her neck. Swiping my tongue across her bottom lip, I allow myself to taste Cashmere Delgado as she parts her lips. While I prefer girls my age or maybe only a year or so younger, the fact that she's almost three years older than me doesn't bother me when I realise that the women of the Capital would most likely be in the forties or fifties.

"What are you doing?" I mumble as she pulls back to breathe, though I do have quite the nagging suspicion of what her intentions are.

"Teaching you," she says. "Either you or Gloss will have to teach the next female courtesan. I'm sure you don't need teaching but I know what things the Capital women like. And Odair, would you really want to lose your virginity to one of them?"

I stand up, hoisting her up with me effortlessly and allow her legs to hook around my waist. "Let's go then," I offer with a smirk, and kiss her again, trailing my lips down her neck. Our hands roam freely as we stumble into the bedroom clumsily, and laugh a little as we fall back onto the bed. My shirt's quickly discarded like a piece of trash.

We roll around, both of us fighting for dominance until she realises that I indeed have the upper hand against her. "I hate being a girl sometimes," she huffs.

I chuckle, pulling back. "If you were a guy, I'd be screaming and running away from you this very instant."

"You do know that you _are _going to have male customers, right?"

"Don't remind me," I groan. "_Please._"

"Maybe you could get Gloss to teach you," Cashmere suggests, with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Moving off of her, I pull a face at her offer. "That is absolutely _disgusting_. I can't believe you just said that," I reply. "Who taught _you, _before you became a courtesan, anyway?"

"Cobalt."

"I don't know any victor named Cobalt."

"There is no victor named Cobalt. He's my ex-fiancee. Excluding my brother, the last male courtesan was Silk Golding and he's eight years older. Gloss decided the man he trusted most to _teach _me was Cobalt." She turns over, straddling my torso and trails a hand down my chest. "Less talk, more action," she demands, leaning down once again.

Her hair forms a curtain around us and her eyes - her _eyes _are different, but familiar. A nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers, _Indiana_. Pushing the voice to the back of my mind, I find that my hands seem to have a curious mind of their own. My right hand wanders up to the golden zipper on the back of her tiny dress, and my other hand slides its way down her breasts, her stomach and up her thigh. _  
_

The pleasure of it all - the kissing, the grinding and the sensuality - overwhelms me, and I'm too far gone to even _bother _thinking about anything else. As my fingers slowly inch her zipper down, Cashmere peppers kisses along my jaw and I snap out of it. _She _once did the same thing. _Indiana_, the voice whispers, insistently.

I sit up, abruptly, pushing her off a little too roughly and stand up. "I can't…" I purse my lips, running through my hair. "Sorry. I just _can't_."

"Finnick, you need to do this. How do you expect to have sex tomorrow with a complete _stranger__?" _

"You remind me of _her_."

"Who? Indiana?" she replies, almost offended. "We might both have blonde hair and blue eyes but most girls in District One do. I might also have a similar personality as she once did, but we _Victors__, _are a family now. We help each other, whenever in need."

"You know I know that, Cashmere. I just… _can't_. I'm sorry. I don't have anything against you in particular. I'm grateful for your help but…" I heave a sigh and apologise one more. "I'm sorry."

The next morning, I find myself knocking on the door of Amelia Keane's apartment. A rather petite woman with silver hair answers the door. She wears next to nothing as she coaxes me into her bedroom.

Today's the day I lose my virginity to the silver-haired, orange-eyed, thirty-seven year old Capital woman named Amelia Keane.

I should've taken Cashmere up on her offer.

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**A/N: Short chapter, I'm sorry. I'll try to make up for it soon, but I hope it's okay :) **


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, S, QuinnDeRavensborough and MsMKT86 for ****reviewing! **

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**XXVII. Bruised And Shattered **

Later that night, I spend over an hour in the shower. I scrub at my skin, until it's raw and red and until my skin stings so much that it's almost a nice feeling. Water cascades down my back and the weight of it seems so heavy. I feel like I'm drowning.

_Amelia Keane. Axelia Whittemore. Sanya Willis. Mellina Bradley. _

Those are four of the names I hope I'll never remember.

Holding back a sigh, I step out of the shower as the water seems to cool down. I'm sure that with the Capital's abundance of money, the water could stay warm for an eternity – I've just been staying under for too long. I quickly dry myself off, throwing on a pair of sweatpants.

I have nothing to do.

So, I spend a few minutes pacing just to keep my ADHD under control. _What do I do? _

I end up dialing my home number with the phone in the living room. "Hello?" It's Annie.

"Is Rhea there?" I ask.

"No. She's asleep."

Glancing up at the clock, I realize that it's almost two in the morning. _Oh. _"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"I just _can't_. Why'd you call?"

I stay silent for a while. Why _did _I call? Was it just to hear their voices and make sure the girls were safe? Or was it because I honestly had nothing better today? Or maybe I was simply hoping that Mags was home, and would be able to offer and share with me her words of wisdom. "I miss home," I finally answer.

She laughs, and even from the other side of the phone, I can hear just how exhausted she sounds. "It's only been two nights, Finnick. You've been all over TV with women in the Capital. Are you seriously telling me that you miss _home_?"

"… Yes. I'm worried about you guys, you know?"

"We're _fifteen_, Finnick. We're not twelve anymore," she informs me. "We can take care of ourselves."

"But I feel- no, I _am _responsible for you two, and I can't just rely on Mags anymo-"

A feeble but audible knock stops me from continuing on. "Finnick?" she asks.

"I have to go," I reply, quietly. "Go to sleep, Annie."

I click the _end_ button, and as I walk over towards the main door, Cashmere stumbles in, collapsing onto the floor. Her tiny, black dress, is torn, barely hanging onto her body – and I'm pretty certain that _this _is not considered to be fashion in the Capital. Her makeup – eyeliner, lipstick and everything else – is smudged in a manner that you wouldn't consider Cashmere Delgado to be the sweetheart from District One. Her shoes – they're missing.

She moans weakly, struggling to regain her balance. The awkward events of last night are pushed to the back of my mind as I place the phone down onto the kitchen tabletop. Crouching down, I manage to hoist her up, bringing her arm around my neck and I slide my own arm around her waist. "What happened?" I ask, pushing my bedroom door open and let her lie down on the bed.

Cashmere attempts to speak, but all she seems to manage is a shaky breath.

When I finally _look _at her, I notice every single detail. The nasty shade of yellow of a bruise is forming on her cheekbone and her lip's partially split. Hickeys are littered all over her neck, along with bruises forming on what seems to be almost every inch of her arms and thighs. Dried blood is smeared across a few areas of her body and lifting the already-torn, flimsy piece of material she's wearing, I see the red mark of a hand, which has evidently held onto her waist too tightly. Bruises of multiples shades of purple, green, yellow and blue decorate her ribs.

"Who _did _this to you?"

Her mouth opens slightly, and with a shaky breath, she manages to reply in a pained whisper. "Sinello." Then, she clutches on to her ribs with a grimace and closes her eyes feebly.

_Cornelius Sinello. _

I think I've come to quite the conclusion that any man with the initials C.S. are douchebags.

Releasing a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. "I'll be right back," I say and walk to the kitchen, scouring the freezer for a few packs of ice and retrieve a glass of cold water. And then, I realise that I have absolutely no idea how to fix her scratches and bruises. The Avox in the corner watches me with a curious stare and I turn to her. "Get a doctor here."

When I get back to Cashmere, I gingerly place an icepack on her bruised cheek. Taking her chin between my thumb and index finger, I raise the glass of water to her lips and allow her to gulp down half of it. "I don't need help," she protests, her voice barely above whisper.

"Sure, you don't, Delgado."

"Call my brother, please."

"Of cours- Hey, don't you dare fall asleep on me," I snap, when I watch her relax a little. "You might have a concussion."

"Please. You'll need a lot more than _this_ to knock me out."

The pregnant pause between the two of us seems to stretch for a lifetime before the Avox returns with a doctor. "Morning, Mr Odair," he greets. "What's the issue?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at how oblivious he seems and step out of the way. The doctor's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the ungodly sight before us. "Miss Delgado?"

The blonde girl stiffens visibly and struggles to pull herself up into a sitting position. "Get _out_."

When I place a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her to lay down, she shoots a glare in my direction. "Why did you call for someone to come? There's a reason why I came _here_, not anywhere else, Odair."

"I called for a doctor because obviously, you need one," I argue. "I have next to no experience with dealing with injuries."

"I don't _need _help." Now that we're arguing, it seems as if she's rejuvenated or re-energised. With an unknown, newfound strength, she manages to ignore her bruised body and pulls herself up, almost collapsing against me once again. Her eyes are wild, like fire. She's a Career at heart.

"Then, why did you come here?"

"I was hoping for maybe a little bit of moral support, but obviously, that backfired."

Running my eyes, I can't help but think, _Why are girls just so _difficult_?_

"Didn't I tell you to leave, Roman?"

The man ignores her words, raking his gaze up and down her broken body with a slight smirk. When I see his eyes, I see _lust_ and hunger, of all things. Whatever it is he's thinking at the moment, he's disgusting to even think about them at a moment like this. Roman takes a few steps forward, and sets his briefcase down on the bed, opening it. "Lie down, Miss Delgado."

"_No_."

"Just lay down, Cashmere," I instruct her. "This will be over sooner if you don't fight it."

"Don't tell me what to do, Odair," she snaps at me, before wincing and placing a hand on her stomach.

As Roman rolls his eyes impatiently and reaches out for her arm with an alcohol swab, she flinches. "Don't you dare touch me!" she screeches, hysterically. "If you even dare to _breathe _on me one more fucking time, I swear to _God_ that I will rip off those measly balls of yours and hang them as pendants, up on my wall at home."

Unable to hide my amusement even at such an inappropriate timing, I hardly manage to stifle a chuckle. Coughing doesn't seem to cover up my laughter as I watch Roman blanch. The colour in his face vanishes quickly as he backs away a little. "S-Sorry, Miss Delgado," he stutters. "I'll try no-"

"Get _out_ already, would you?"

"But-"

"Don't make me wear your balls as earrings," she threatens him, her voice going dry.

He runs off like a headless chicken, leaving his briefcase behind. Roman gives me a frightened nod on the way out, and I return it with a lazy smirk. I hear Cashmere fall down onto the mattress and release a heavy sigh. "That wasn't nice," I chastise.

"Who cares?"

"He does."

"Well, I don't," she presses, her voice cracking even more.

"You need help."

"No, I _don't_. I don't want help, nor do I need it. It's happened many times before; I can take care of myself, I swear. I usually just sleep it off."

"Are you sure?" I ask, as she gulps down the rest of the water.

She nods. "The reason I came here was because I don't like staying overnight here alone - I can't even stand to sleep in a room alone at night, here. Gloss is usually here with me but… He doesn't need to come as often."

"Because of me?"

"Partly," she corrects me. "Since the women in the Capital share the two of you now. But mostly, it's because he's done one huge favour for Snow."

"What'd he do?"

Cashmere looks away from me and avoids my question. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

"Go ahead."

A few minutes of listening to Cashmere's wincing and a few smashes later, the water turns on and I take this opportunity to flip through the phonebook in the living room. It takes me a while before I find Gloss' number and dial it up on the phone. I call four times, and no one replies. On the fifth try, a gruff voice answers the phone. "What do you want?"

"What's up, Delgado?"

"Odair," he replies, with an aggravated sigh. "What the hell are you doing, calling me at three in the morning?"

"Your sister's here an-"

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know, man," I reply. "She hasn't told me anything yet, but she's covered in bruises and scratches. There's a bloody _handprint _on her stomach."

"Did she mention _anything _at all?" he asks.

"Corneliu-"

"_Sinello_," Gloss hisses and a rather loud _smash_ comes from the other end of the phone. I raise an eyebrow, knowing that he can't see me, and come to the conclusion that he's probably punched a wall or something along those lines. "I'll be there in a few hours."

The line falls flat.

"_Woah," _I say as I walk back into my room. Cashmere stands in the middle of my room, stark naked with her hair dripping wet. But that doesn't bother me. What _does _bother me is the fact that there are many more bruises than I'd previously seen and thought there were. Some look fresh, some are already formed and others are faded. "What do they _do_ to you?" I ask, as my eyes trail from her discoloured cheek, to her swollen breasts, to her red stomach, and down to her bruised upper thighs. When I fumble around my closet for a shirt, I receive a view of her backside and it's just as bad - if not, more. Distinct marks of whip lines are streaked across her back, staining her natural, milky skin with a nasty shade of red.

I help her into the oversized shirt and she stays silent for a moment. "Thank you," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow, Finnick."

Grabbing onto her arm, I protest, "No, no. Where do you think you're going?"

Cashmere releases a hiss in pain as I clamp down a little too hard. "Sorry," I apologise.

"Going to my room," she replies.

"No, you're not. You said yourself, that you can barely sleep alone in your own room. You're staying here."

"Thanks, but no thanks," she declines and turns for the door.

"I can't sleep alone either," I confess. "Maybe we'll both be able to sleep if we know that we're either both safe, or in danger."

"Well, I hope you don't mind having to share a bed with a girl who punches in her sleep," she replies, after a moment of contemplation.

"Nah, don't worry. I'm probably a worse kicker in bed."

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**A/N: I really hope no one's thinking that Finnick and Cashmere have some weird romance relationship thing going on v.v That's just really weird. I guess, they have a mutual understanding between the two of them and can be there for each other in a way that brothers and sisters can't. **


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, aridneia, MsMKT86 and Joe for reviewing! **

**I hate to sound rude or anything, but to the person who reviewed "please… less relations to sex": if you're not comfortable with anything, then don't bother reading. Finnick Odair is labeled as the ****_sex symbol_**** of Panem for a reason.**

**I've actually received quite a few reviews asking about the alliances of the 75th Hunger Games, where Gloss and Cashmere attack Finnick's group. I have that planned, don't worry! Here's a question for you to ask yourself: Gloss and Cashmere are _careers; _are they going to fight their way home, or are they going to dedicate their life to protect just a stranger?  
**

**Also, this chapter is pretty fast-paced, sorry! I had a bit of writer's block with this. The first half of the chapter will be normal-paced, and the second half with basically be a description of the span of the next few months leading up to the 68th Hunger Games. **

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**XXVIII. Home Sweet Home**

"This had better not be what I think it is."

Groaning, I launch a pillow at the person standing in the doorway. "Go away." As I roll over, I come in contact with another person and releasing a cry of shock, I jump up.

"Both of you: get out," Cashmere says. "I want sleep."

"This is _my _room," I argue.

"And who was the one who told me to sleep here?"

"You _what_?" Gloss says.

"We didn't do anything!"

He eyes me, disbelievingly even though I am in fact, stating the truth. "Sure. Whatever." He turns to Cashmere and heaves a sigh as he reaches out to help her up. "Come on, Cashy. We're going home."

"I still have eight days." She rolls away from him, only to fall off the bed and onto the carpet. She lands with a painfully loud thud. Cashmere cries out in agony and moans, lying facedown on the ground. "You go home."

"You can make up for the eight days another time."

"_No_."

"_Yes_. Odair called me at three in the goddamned morning saying that you were beaten up like a rag doll an-"

"Actually," I interrupt, unhelpfully, "I just said that she had bruises all over her body."

Gloss shoots me a cold glare before continuing on. "The next train back home leaves tonight at six, and we're leaving tonight. That's final."

The two Delgado's spend the next four or so minutes glowering at each other, simply waiting for the other to stop. Clearing my throat rather unnecessarily, I say, "Cash, you should go home."

They act as if they hadn't heard me and when she finally relents, she storms out of the room with a limp and her head held high. Her twin only rolls his eyes in irritation and follows her out.

For the rest of the day, I utilize my time by treating women out on dates – consequently, I have lunch about four times. All of the women I visit today purely want to get to know me better – in a more innocent manner than the previous day. If I hadn't known better, I would consider this day a day off. And I _enjoy_ the day, constantly making small talk with women, both old and young. The younger women are mostly left alone during the day by their husbands and merely seek for enjoyable company, while the older women are lonelier than most others, and that's something I can understand.

As I make my way up the elevator to Level One of the Training Centre, it feels as if my stomach's about to burst at its seams. The moment the elevator doors _ding_ open, a crash erupts from behind the doors to the main living quarters of the storey. When I slam the door open, the twins are in the midst of a full-blown argument. Gloss waves around an empty bottle of beer, like a mad man, and at the moment, his actions highly resemble those of Haymitch Abernathy's. Maybe not as sloppy, but still, the resemblance is quite evident.

_He's drunk_. Probably not completely wasted, but judging my the look in his eyes, Gloss is at least, a little tipsy.

"Just because you need to go home for Vanessa, doesn't mean _I _do!" Cashmere yells. "I have my own business to take care of!"

"You do need to go home, Cashmere. Just _look _at you. You're becoming a fucking whore – an _object_," he argues.

"That's what you are too!" the girl screeches. "_A Capital whore!_" She lunges for his beer bottle, rears her arm back and releases it, aiming for Gloss. She misses by a minimal margin. The bottle shatters against the wall only inches away from him and several shards embed themselves into his arms. Within seconds, it's almost as if he feels no pain, and Gloss effortlessly grabs Cashmere by the neck, lifting her off the ground a few inches.

They glare at each other, much like they had earlier in the morning. "You don't get to choose what you do in life," he replies, in a low voice. "You never have, and you never _will_."

"You're no better than him," she spits. "How do you expect to take care of your kid when you treat your own _sister_ like this? You can't even treat your own _wife _correctly, sometimes" His grip visibly loosens and Cashmere shrugs her brother off. "Are we going home, or what?"

I take this as my cue to leave, and I sneak out, leaving the door ajar behind me. All my mind seems to be able to come up with is, _What the hell? _After witnessing their argument, I'm starting to have a sneaking suspicion that Gloss drinks, rather regularly, and beats up the girls closest to him.

_What__? _

* * *

Ten days later, I arrive home. I sense the sea before I even smell, hear or see the oceans before me. It makes me come to realise just how nostalgic and homesick I've been over the course of a fortnight. As the train pulls up to a halt, a silly grin is plastered on my face before I shove the doors open. I inhale the scent of familiar sea salt, fish, and in general, District Four.

The feeling of deja vu washes over me as the unmistakable tinkle of my sister's giggles erupt from behind me, and she jumps on me, tackling me into a hug. "Finnick!"

"Hey, little sis. You miss me?"

"Pfft, _no_."

"Yes, she did," Oliver interrupts. "She's been babbling non-stop about how she wishes you were here, ever since you left."

"No, I didn't," she insists, clutching onto me tighter.

"Oh, so is that why you're holding onto me like I'm your lifeline?" I tease her, feeling the corner of my mouth tug up into a smirk.

"_No_," she denies once again, letting go of me.

Laughing, I reply, "You don't need to deny it. I missed you too, Rhea."

The next few months pass by in a rather orderly fashion. In the mornings, I fish with my father's old mates. I go to school, and I hang out with my tight group of mates: Oliver Ross, Eamon Keeley, Austin Gasket and Nash North. At home, I'm stuck with Rhea and Annie, who are both good company. Sometimes, they bring their friends over, including that _Ayden _boy who I suspect now has a crush on Rhea. Everyday, I check up on Mags, spending at least an hour of quality time with her - I feel like it's my duty to take care of her. I have constant check-ups with Doctor Audrye, who had given birth to a girl in March - and thank God for that, because I still have no idea how Dean had been able to deal with her horrid mood wings and random cravings. She and Dean decided to call her Cordelia, meaning daughter of the sea. She's a rather healthy baby, with blonde ringlets and the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and she's by far the most adorable baby in District Four.

Every month, I spend exactly one week in the Capital and I've figured out how to manage my way through each affair, each one-night stand and each night. I don't need to force myself to enjoy the company of women who treat me like a human, and I refuse to let them pay for my dinner and any other of my costs. As for the other women who actually offer tremendously high amounts of money for my body, I've managed to figure out how to be there, but _not _be there at the same time. My presence is there, but I zone out as I fulfil the many dreams and fantasies the women have. I keep my eyes closed, imagining the rocking of waves back in District Four, the soft sand underneath my feet, the wind whipping by and I hear each wave crashing down, like it's music to my ears.

But in public, I never know when I'm being watched or listened to, so I keep the charade up. I flirt and wink, and kiss women's cheeks, and shower them with compliments, and when they do the same back in public, it's quite flattering.

Many ladies often feel bad for using me, and so they give me things in return. Sometimes, it's an object of importance. Most times, they offer jewellery, gold and watches. At first, I denied their bargains, but after much insistence, I know from experience that it's no good to argue with a woman. They win most of the times, anyway. Several women don't care, but that's only a small portion of the ladies though. Sometimes, I find myself to be a punching bag and get beaten up by them, but nowhere near as bad as Cashmere had the first day I'd completed my duties. I man up, and suck it up. I've yet to encounter a date with a man, but I'm hopelessly praying that it won't happen.

June is quickly coming to a close, and everyday, I can't help but fear for what Marlene might do on Reaping Day. I've seen her quite a lot in school, in the training centre and around the District but we've never had any sort of direct communication. We give each other stiff nods and that's it. If she does choose to volunteer, I've decided that I'll ignore what I'd said to her, and I'll demand to be her mentor, no matter what. I couldn't save one Summers, I _need _to save the other. I fear for her bloodlust. She's already such a sadistic person - maybe not like Althea Yule, Brutus from Two, or the Wesley and Andromeda from last year, but she's one of those girls who watch an act of beheading and say, "_Oh my god, that's so cool!"_ and not to mention, she has quite the knack of threatening people.

I suppose she's gotten quite the advantage in the arena though. She's tall - five foot eleven -, she's lean and muscular, and she's had plenty of training. But that brings me once again, to her undeniable bloodlust and determination to push through and to claim victory. She'll go absolutely _crazy _in the arena, and not just the crazy that the morphlings from Six have somehow reached. Marlene Summers has a reason to win and she'll use that one reason as her lifeline: her own younger and deceased brother, Maxwell Summers.

"Hey, man," Oliver waves a hand in front of my face. "You there?"

"Yeah, fine," I reply. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

He doesn't push me for any answers. It's almost like Oliver is the one who understands me the most, out of everyone. He hasn't been reaped, and he hasn't experienced fighting to his imminent death, but there's just something about my best friend that understands almost everything and everyone, and I can't say my thanks enough. While he's serious at times, he always puts the fun in things, and seems to be able to crack a joke at anything.

He turned eighteen last month, making him a good five months older than me. I'm still stuck at seventeen. He and Arden both only have one more reaping left to attend, and I've forced them both sworn on each other's lives to not volunteer.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

My neck cracks a few times, as I turn my head to look at him, in record time. My walking slows down and he grins stupidly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Then, I grin and slap him on the back, enthusiastically. "Dude, that's great! I knew you guys were serious but not _that _serious. You've only been dating for a year and a half, haven't you?"

He shrugs. "My dad proposed to mum after dating for eight months. She's tried to raise the topic of marriage up discreetly into our conversations but you know me. Nothing gets past me."

"What if one of you get reaped?"

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Stop being so pessimistic, Odair. There are volunteers every year. You need to find yourself a lady."

"No, I don't," I argue. "I'm happy with being single, and hanging out with the women in the Capital."

"No, you're not," he snorts. "You fancy Cresta."

Just as I open my mouth to deny it, he interrupts me, "Don't even bother denying it, Finnick. Even my _mum _can tell you fancy her."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Ask her out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_, Oliver."

"_Yes_, Finnick."

"If you want me to ask her out, then why don't _you _ask her out instead?"

"Sure, why no-"

"Why are we even going to my place?"

"Because I need a girl's opinion on this." Oliver grins that annoying grin again and flicks his hair out of his eyes. "Rhea, Annie, Shelley, whoever's home, really." His eyes lights up as we see Annie make her way from Mags' house to ours, and I groan inaudibly as he throws an arm around the girl. "Hey, Annie," he greets."

"Hey, Oliver." She offers a generous smile at him, then frowns in confusion as he steers her out of the Victor's Village and towards the market of District Four.

"You see this lad here?" he asks, hooking a thumb back at me and she nods. "Well, you see, Annie, he kinda has this _thing_ he wants to ta-"

Slapping the back of his head, I manage to shut him up. "Shut up, Oliver," I bark at him, and he laughs, throwing his head back.

I tag along behind the two of them, as he has a one-sided conversation with Annie. When we step into the District's best jeweller's shop, he asks, "Annie, do you like diamonds, pearls or emeralds?"

"Uhh…"

"No, wait. What do _girls_ prefer?"

"Depends on the girl?"

"So what do you think Arden will like?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"Well, I'm not a girl. That's why you're here."

"But I'm not Arden!"

"But you're a girl!"

I push their voices to the back of my mind, as I scan the large diversity of rings in front of us. Some are ordinary rings, with a single diamond and gold band, while others are more intricate. One in particular catches my eye. It's not my favourite in this collection, but it's undoubtedly Arden's style: intricate and sophisticated. It's a ring encrusted with a diamond in the middle, and small gems of emerald surrounding it. "How much is this?" I ask the jeweller.

"Six and a half grand."

Oliver can afford that, since his family has been one of the most successful families in the district, though he's quite modest about it.

That rich bastard.

"How about this?" I ask Oliver, point to the ring.

He takes one glance at it and replies, "It's perfect."

"No!" Annie cries out. "That can't be an engagement ring! Buy that as your actual wedding ring for her, but for the engagement ring, get something simple and elegant, like…" She purses her lips and taps her fingers against the glass case, examining the mass of rings. After a few longs moments, she finally points to the ring in the corner. "This one."

The two of us lean over her shoulder. It's simple, just like she said, with a diamond stone right in the middle, with a silver band. "I'll buy them both," Oliver says.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah," he replies. "I have no idea what looks good or not, so I'm trusting your judgement."

The jeweller eyes Oliver, with doubt. "Are you sure you can pay for this, sir?"

"Yes, of course. I'm Oliver Ross," he says, arrogantly, handing the man a huge wad of cash. I raise an eyebrow as the man takes the cash with shaky hands. When had he gotten so much money? "Keep the change."

"Th-thanks, Mr Ross."

Within minutes, we're out of the shop and by now, Oliver's bouncing up and down as we walks in excitement. Annie constantly shoots him amused glances as he quite literally beams at everyone. Suddenly, he stops in the middle of a crowded area and grins, impishly. Oliver kneels down on one knee in front of Annie and says, "Thank you, Annie Cresta, for helping me. I owe my life to you now. May God bless you." He reaches for the velvet box and opens it up, revealing the engagement ring.

Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn bright red, as people crowd around us, grinning and cooing at the sight before them. I smack myself in the forehead at my friend's antics. A few women squeal, "Say yes!" but all Annie does is stare at Oliver, resembling much like a deer caught in headlights, and she just looks so _adorable_. And despite how much I want to roll my eyes, I end up laughing. Women shoot me glares for ruining the supposed moment and I drag Oliver up by the collar of his shirt.

"Stop messing with her and propose to your own girl, Ross."

* * *

**A/N: THEY'RE MAKING A HUNGER GAMES AMUSEMENT PARK but it's probably in America so sucks to be me, haha. **

**I'm not entirely sure what the seasons are ****like in the Hunger Games trilogy, so I'm assuming that since Panem is situated in North America, summer is June-August and winter is December-February. I think I've gotten that wrong in past chapters (oops), just ignore that. **


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, S, Jamez S, Joe, QuinnDeRavensborough and MsMKT86 for reviewing! :) **

* * *

**XXIX. **

It's Arden's eighteenth birthday today. A group of us from school hang out on Oliver's ship. Well, it isn't really a ship, but it can't be classified as a boat either, so we called it a ship. Eamon, Austin, Nash, Annie, Rhea, Layla and Shay join the three of us as we celebrate this special day.

We're quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. Somehow, Oliver has set the course to an island off the eastern coast of District Four. This isn't just the destination of a celebration; it's the location of his marriage proposal.

For the past two weeks, Oliver has been a bundle of… _energy_, if that was the correct way of describing him. One minute, he'd been bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning, and the other minute, he'd be frowning and contemplating whether or not his girlfriend would reject him.

I think not.

I join Oliver at the bow of the ship, leaning on the railing and look off into the distance. I welcome the rocking of the ship and the fluctuation of the waves. A few waves come high enough to lap our feet. I stare out onto the horizon, admiring the light tints or orange and purple that seep into the usual shade of blue in the sky. It's almost sunset by now. Oliver has calculated the time, impeccably.

"You shouldn't be so nervous, you know. It's not like she'll say no to you."

"I know," he sighs. "This sounds so stupid but I want it to be _perfect_. I want her to remember this day for the rest of her life and I want her to cherish the moment like she'll never see me ever again."

I turn around, so my back is against the front of the ship. We have the perfect view of the others in front of us, messing around in the pool and screaming in laughter. "If you'll remember today, then she will too. She's a girl and trust me when I say this: girls don't miss a single thing."

He chuckles softly, watching as his soon-to-be fiancée throws her head back and laughs at something Austin has said. Even a blind fool would even be able to tell just how in love they were with each other. He watches Arden splash Rhea with water, with a look of adoration and love, and it's almost _too _sweet.

"I should've asked her out sooner," he says, with an affectionate smile. "She's so beautiful."

"Yeah," I agree. "If you don't propose to her today, I might just sweep her off her feet and she'll come running to me."

I smirk as he turns to me, amused. "She'd never leave me for you," he replies, arrogantly. "She thinks of you as a brother."

Shrugging, I watch as Arden pushes a completely oblivious Annie into the pool. Annie screams in surprise and her squeals become muffled as she falls headfirst into the water. "Does she really?" I ask, with a teasing grin. I let out a bark of laughter when he shoves me. When I manage to regain my balance, I jog towards the others, shrugging my shirt off on the way. "C'mon, Ross, let's crash this party they're having and have some fun."

Within the next few minutes, we spend our time fooling around on the ship, and I've realised that I haven't had so much fun in years. The chlorine-filled pool isn't enough. All of us, save for Annie, who claims that she prefers to have at least someone watching over the ship, end up jumping off and swim in the ocean. The harsh summer sunlight beats down on our skin, and it's no doubt that we'll end up getting horribly sunburnt. It'll be worth it though. The rays of sunlight reflect off the waves, glittering before us. We glide in the water, laughing like we had been born in water.

We finally spot the island that Oliver's been talking about. The coast, from where we view it, is bordered with many palm trees, varying in height and size. The sand is a brilliant shade of white with only the slightest tint of yellow, and I need to squint to see further in through the foliage. I spot several caves here and there, with the water lapping at the entrances. Although it doesn't seem much from the outside to the inside, it resembles much like a tropical paradise.

I watch Rhea from afar. She floats on her back with her eyes closed. A serene smile is plastered on her face as she basks in the glory of the sun. Below the waist, her green dress billows out, only half blending in with the sea.

And then, I turn to look over at Annie. Every few seconds, she alternates between reading the novel she holds in her hands and stares off into the distance. She sits cross-legged by the edge. Her damp hair, usually framing her face, is blown back by the gentle breeze, and her mouth is set in an adorable pout as she returns her attention back to the book.

_An angel sent down from Heaven, _I think to myself.

I'm brought out of my daze when I'm splashed in the face. Hysterical laughter rings in my ears, as I spit the water out, splashing Shay back. She cackles in laughter. Slowly, the rest of the gang engages into a water fight, having the time of our lives like nothing else matters. And really, nothing else matters at all. There's just a _we_ – a tight-knit group of friends.

Oliver suddenly booms in laughter. He envelops his arms around a protesting Arden, form behind and pokes at her sides. "Get _off_, Oliver!"

Shay pretends to gag and pulls a face at the happy couple, before sinking back underneath the water and gliding around like a fish. I'm tempted to join her underwater, but decide against it and pull myself up back onto the boat. A grin creeps up onto my face as I sneak behind Annie and clamp my hands onto her shoulders. "Boo."

She screams an ear-piercing shriek and leaps up, the book flying out of her hands and onto the deck. Struggling to keep my laughter in, I purse my lips at her and frown. "Annie, I thought I taught you better than this. Didn't I always tell you to be aware of your surroundings?"

Annie glares at me, despite the twitch pulling at the corner of her lips. When a chuckle escapes from me, she laughs as well. "It was a good book," she replies.

I don't miss the discreet glance she shoots over at my way and how her cheeks flush red, as she brushes the backside of her dress and sits down. Before I can make a snarky comment, she reaches to retrieve her novel and says, "It's beautiful, don't you think?"

And for a moment, I almost reply, "Yes, you are," until I realise just how stupid I am and that she's staring off at the island before us and smiles, wistfully. I clear my throat, awkwardly and take a seat next to her. "Yeah, it is."

She's off into her own land again, something that's always seemed to be a habit of hers, but for the past few years, she's snapped out of it more. We watch as the rest of our friends make their way up onto deck, screaming like headless chickens. They jump, wrestle and shout like maniacs, and I wonder how in the world I ever got to become friends with such idiots. Oliver grins cheekily, shaking his head, causing droplets of water to fly out of his hair and land all over us.

"Eugh," Annie says, brushing her hair out of her face. "He's disgusting."

"Eh, I can't really argue with that."

Within minutes, our friends appear back on deck, with dry clothes and grins to match with their attire. Oliver stops the vessel, allowing the rest to sprint off onto the island, to explore the wilderness beyond the palm trees. "Aren't you guys coming?" Arden yells up at us from below.

Her boyfriend shoots her a smile. "In a minute, sweetheart."

Turning back to Annie and myself, he runs a hand through his hair and releases a huge gush of air. Oliver groans and digs his right hand into his pocket, fiddling with the box. Raising an eyebrow at his antics, I find it amusing that he's so nervous. "Aren't you going to propose?" I ask.

"Man, I… Oh, _God_," he says, crouching down in front of us. "I swear this isn't ocean water that's drenching my shirt - it's _sweat_. I can't stop shaking and I'm pretty sure my heart's beating so fast that it shouldn't even be possible. It's just _not possible._"

"Oliver, you're like, the 'Finnick Odair' of District Four," Annie starts.

"Hey!" I interrupt. "Are you saying that _I__, _Finnick Odair, myself, am not the Finnick Odair of District Four?"

"Nobody would say no to you," she presses, ignoring my remark. "Any girl who would say no to you would be stupid. She loves you just as much as you love her."

Oliver grins and wriggles his eyebrows. "Does that mean you'd say yes?"

Annie scowls at him for a second. "No."

"Damn," he sighs and clutches at his heart, melodramatically. "You wound me, Annie. I really thought we had something going on here."

I press my fist against the side of his head and push him back, like I'm knocking a door. "Go propose to your girlfriend."

"But, what if she says no?!"

"How about this?" Annie compromises, leaning forward a little and twiddles her thumbs. "If Arden says no, I'll be here to pick up the pieces for you."

She's rewarded with a cheeky wink and a thumbs up, and within two seconds, the guy is on his feet and sprinting off the ship, shouting at the top of his lungs. "I got this, man!"

"He's gone crazy, I swear."

Annie stifles a giggle and stretches her legs over the deck. "I think it's cute. Not Oliver, I mean, but the two of them. They're like, living a fairytale."

"Would you like your life to be a fairytale?"

"I don't know. Obviously, it's never going to happen but a girl can dream, right?"

"Right."

A pregnant silence falls upon us, and for what seems to be the first time, it's not all that awkward. We stare off into the distance, watching our friends fool around. Rhea strikes the most random poses with the two other girls.

"When do you want to get married?"

I turn to look at Annie, surprised at her sudden outburst. "What?" I manage to splutter out, my eyebrows shooting up.

She squirms uncomfortably and chews on her bottom lip. "Most people get married when they're eighteen or nineteen. You're almost eighteen and you haven't had a girlfriend, if you don't count the women from the Capital."

"_Oh. _Please," I reply, forcing a smirk. "The single life is _way _too good to give up right now."

I can sense Annie judging me, mentally but I pay no attention to her when I hear my best friend exclaim, "She said yes!" Our group of friends erupts into cheers and whoop ecstatically, pounding him on the back.

And I just can't help but say sarcastically, "Well, isn't _that_ a surprise."

* * *

**A/N: I kind of just love Oliver :') I apologise for the late/short/crap chapter but I promise I'll make up for it next chapter! The 78th Games are starting - do you think Marlene will volunteer? **


	30. Chapter 30

**Thank you Joe, Guilia982, HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, QuinnDeRavensborough and MsMKT68 for reviewing! :) **

* * *

**XXX. Reaping **

While it's no surprise to me that Marlene Summers steps forth to volunteer for the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games, my heart still pounds rapidly and my fists clench by my sides. This is probably one of the poorest decisions I've ever watched anyone make. I keep the stone-faced charade up as the camera pans over to me and I watch as a measly, thirteen-year-old boy limps his way onto the stage.

_Fantastic_, I think to myself. _A girl who's planning to mutilate every single tribute in the arena, and a boy who can barely walk. What would go wrong? _

I watch as visitors trickle in of the Justice Building, several coming back out bawling their eyes out. I lean against the wall with my arms casually folded across my chest, and watch the never-ending stream of visitors that make their way into Marlene's room. They chatter amongst themselves in excitement as they surge forward to most likely, shower her with compliments.

Meanwhile, I throw a few cheeky grins and winks over at the girls in the group, most of whom go to school with me and in turn, their cheeks blossom into rosy shades of pink. My mind's in another place, as I ponder over how I'm supposed to mentor a tribute who's older than me. She's only about seven months older but if she doesn't take shit from her elders, then it would undoubtedly prove to be a nearly impossible task to have her listen to me.

A sturdy force to my shoulder brings me out of my thoughts and I look down at my sister. "When are you coming back home?"

"At least two weeks," I reply. "After the victor's interview."

Her shoulders sag and Rhea stares at me, in an almost disappointed manner. "You're never home anymore," she whispers so softly that I nearly think she's talking to herself.

"I'm sorry." An apologetic smile is all I can offer. "You know I have to go."

"But, _why_?" she demands. "The Victors are supposed to _take turns _mentoring. You already mentored two years ago, and you go to the Capital even when the Games aren't on."

"Rhea, I hav-"

"You don't tell me anything!" she exclaims. "You know, I found out that you like _Annie, _out of all people, from Oliver! She's my best friend."

"I don't like Annie," I deny, stubbornly.

"That's not my point. My point is tha-"

"Do you think it's my choice?" I argue. "I don't _want _to go. I do want to tell you why I need to go but you're too young to understand."

"I'm fifteen." Rhea stomps her foot down, resembling like her seven-year-old self. "I think I understand enough to know that you've been screwing the Capital women."

I stare at her in shock, raising my eyebrows. "Who told you?"

"_No one_ had to tell me. When you're gone, you're always on TV. You always have yours hands under some woman's dress. It's not hard to figure it out. How do you think Annie feels?"

Suddenly aware of the film and audio recorders in the Justice Building, I simply reply with, "I don't care about how she feels," before I'm whisked off onto the train by the Peacekeepers. The last glance of my sister is her appalled expression as she screams to me that this conversation isn't over.

"I'll take the kid," says Joseph.

And that's the only bit of conversation we have on the train ride. Marlene scowls but doesn't say anything. She stays within my field of vision, without saying a word and avoids any eye contact with me as she stares out the window with an impassive, unreadable expression. Her blue eyes, cold as ever, seem to pierce through the window and reflect back from the glass as we pass the tunnel, which only lasts a few seconds long. In her right hand, she holds a butter knife and as innocent as such an act could be, I know just how dangerous it is for her to hold an object, which merely spreads butter onto bread. Her left index finger traces down the jagged edge of the knife, her nail scraping along it every so often. Sometimes, she lifts it up to scratch it against the window and dragging it down, which consequently emits a sound that resembles much like nails running down a chalkboard.

Absentmindedly, I watch her every move, popping sugar cube after sugar cube into my mouth. Unaware of the now empty bowl, I scoop in for another block of sugar, only to frown in disappointment when I touch nothing but glass. The door slams loudly, as Joseph walks out the room with his puny tribute, most likely sick of the tense silence in the carriage.

"So are you going to keep staring at me?"

I blink, yawning and finally come to my senses that I've been watching her every move like a hawk. "Sorry," I apologise. "Tired."

She snorts, rolling her eyes as I yawn again. "Obviously. You stay up too late screwing your neighbour?"

"_No_," I deny, shooting her a dirty look. I almost say, _'Stayed awake, worrying if you were going to volunteer or not_.'

"Are you going to mentor me? Because you're doing quite a bad job at it now."

"I already know everything about you: your best weapon, your worst weapon, your strengths and weaknesses, how you fight and what you'll do in the arena," I list, ticking off my fingers as I do.

"Yeah?" Marlene replies, "And what exactly am I going to do in the arena?"

"You'll probably be one of the first ones to the Cornucopia, assuming it's flat ground, of course. You'll grab a sword and tear through as many people as you can and that's what you'll do for the rest of the Games with the Careers."

"Well, you're wrong." She pauses for a brief moment before admitting, "Okay, you're only _half _correct."

I stay silent for a moment, unable to come up with a coherent response and end up asking, "Are you going to team up with the kid?"

Marlene scoffs, looking at me as if I've gone nuts. "No. Who do you think I am? A desperate loser?"

"With the way you're talking like you've got the world in your hands? Yes."

"I'm not going to team up with him, but if he tags along with the Careers then who am I to care?"

I groan in frustration, running my hands through my hair and shaking my head. At least we've come to the mutual - and silent - agreement that we're not bringing up that feud we'd had a few months back. "No, Marlene. Do you not care for anyone? Not even an innocent kid from your own district?"

"Of course I care."

"Then why are you so _difficult _to work with?"

"Because you suck at mentoring?" she offers. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. "Joking. I just can't find it in myself to care _enough_ for anyone else when they haven't proved to me why I should care for them."

And finally, Marlene Summers says something _deep_ \- kind of. It's probably the deepest thing I'll ever be able to get out of her, considering the minimal chances of her survival within the next few weeks. I can't help but ponder, why _do _I care for someone I don't know and hasn't done anything to prove themselves worthy for my care? "I suppose you're right," I say, quietly, "I've never really thought of it that way."

"Most people treat others the way they want to be treated, for the sake of being the better person. But really, you're supposed to treat another the way they treat you."

"It's not a 'supposed to' thing," I argue. "It's the person's choice."

She shrugs and we leave the conversation there, enjoying the silence for a while before we enter the Capital's premises. It's no wonder to me anymore. I don't find myself awestruck as I gaze out into the Inner Circle of the Capital, mostly because I'm sick of the sight already. Marlene stares out in amazement, her jaw slightly dropped and mouths a few words that I don't catch.

_If only she knew what it's really like_, I think to myself.

The butter knife is still clutched tightly in her hand but her attention has strayed too far to even notice it anymore, as she attempts to press herself closer to the glass window to take a better peek of the city. The train rolls in to a halt and once the door opens, all hell breaks loose. The high-pitched screams of the Capital men and women flood into our field of hearing. Marlene pulls a face at the ungodly sound and cringes, following me outside as we make our way through the crowd right behind Joseph and his tribute.

Leaning down to Marlene's height, I whisper in her ear through clench teeth, "Smile."

She forces a smile upon her face, and it's a sight which seems to be almost unnatural since I've never seen her smile all that much. Her stone-faced expression is the one I've grown used to over the years. I wink at Aurelia Winters, one of my regular customers and place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, causing the rest of the women to crowd around her and swoon. Marlene rolls her eyes and scoffs in disgust at me, but I ignore her actions, placing a hand on her back and lead her through the crowd.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Puffings," I greet a familiar redhead beside me, shooting a dirty look at Marlene as she snorts at the name. As hilarious as the woman's name is - Buttina Puffings -, my reputation would be ruined with one laugh that emits from me.

She smiles back at me, innocently. When we reach the Justice Building, it seems that Districts Two and Three have arrived just before us. I offer a polite nod and smile to Wiress and Beetee, two familiar figures who I'd grown to like, when I'd come to mentor Maxwell. District Two's Enobaria and Drakula offer nothing but a couple of sinister smiles as they stroll past me with their two tributes, who act as if everyone else is inferior to them.

I can almost hear their thoughts as the two tributes smirk at our own two tributes._  
_

"We have about at least a day in the Capital before Districts Ten, Eleven and Twelve arrive," Joseph says as we enter the fourth storey's living room - a room I've grown to be all too familiar with. "Would you like to be trained separately or together?"

"Separately," Marlene replies within an instant. The boy snaps his head up, looking at Marlene in fear and gulps nervously. He hesitantly nods in agreement.

Joseph purses his lips and nods, stiffly. "Alright. We'll watch the recaps together to analyse each and every tribute, and then we'll split off."

The two of us sit on the far corners of the couch, with the boy and Marlene situated between us. Marlene eyes the kid warily, attempting to subtly move away from him slow and inches towards me. I don't blame her though; the kid reeks of raw fish, like he hasn't bothered attempting to clean himself up. His blonde, or maybe it was brown, hair is slicked back with the oil that I suspect that has been resulted from days or maybe even weeks of not showering. His bones stick out awkwardly, and he seems to have a back problem, which I think Doctor Audrye has mentioned to be scoliosis. His plain, white clothes sag down on his body, emphasising just how skinny the kid is and how pale he is, even wearing white.

Sighing, I stand up to allow Marlene to move to my spot, and I take her place next to the stinky kid. Joseph watches along in amusement as he takes a swig of his beer.

The credits of the Annual Hunger Games rolls on screen and the audio blasts through the speakers loudly, almost deafening me. Joseph's quick to lower the volume down as we watch District One's reaping. Down on the side, Cashmere and Gloss are in matching attire - a short, white dress with a black waistband, and a white dress shirt with black trousers. Cashmere has her usual serene expression, while Gloss looks as bored as he usually seems to be. And this time, there are no bruises and scratches, and shattered beer bottles.

_Thank fucking God_.

"That girl might be short and not look all that muscular," Joseph says, "But don't you dare underestimate her. Most Careers with a lean body shape are often great archers and runners."

The girl from District One has _purple_ eyes.

"The boys from One and Two are often huge, and can find about twenty-five different ways to kill you with their bare hands in two seconds."

The kid next to me flinches and if it's possible, his skin turns even paler. Joseph jumps in to the rescue, to help as much as he can, which isn't much. "Don't worry, Thomas. You can run."

Marlene roars in laughter, then coughs rather exaggeratedly to cover it up.

Orion, the tribute for One this year, looks like a goth with his jet black hair, dark brown eyes and black attire - and not to mention, his piercing glare. "You'd probably want to stay on this guy's good side."

"No shit," Marlene replies with an eye roll.

Choosing to ignore her, Joseph continues on with the tributes from Two. "_Damn_, that girl's huge," he breathes out with wide eyes.

I stare at the screen, my jaw slack. "Is it even possible for a girl to be that big?" I ask, rhetorically.

The kid next to me whimpers softly and I can even hear Marlene gulp nervously as she leans back for a moment. "And they say _I'm _tall for a girl."

She's five foot eleven now. Of course, she's tall.

"You are tall," I reply. "This girl's just… taller and bigger."

Marlene might have visited the Training Centre everyday, but she wasn't massive like most who went as often as her. While she wasn't completely skinny, she was more towards the lean side, though it was evident that she had plenty of muscle. The girl from Two however, seemed to dwarf the boy from Two, and the sight was utterly absurd.

The only good thing I can point out is that she's ugly, and won't be able to receive all that many sponsors. Ugly isn't a word I usually describe a woman but bad looking wouldn't be too much of an understatement to describe her.

"How in the world…" Joseph trails off and shakes his head before continuing on. "This year, the field of tributes is probably at a pretty high level of skill and training. District Two's at an advantage this year."

District Three's tributes seem to be of average height and weight this year, unlike the past few years. When we come up on screen, Marlene walks her way upstage as probably the only girl to have ever worn a shirt and shorts to a Reaping. It's slightly disrespectful but no one seems to pay any attention to her clothing choice. A close-up of the top half of her face appears before us, showing the audience her eyes before zooming back out and displaying Thomas. His stage presence is just how he currently looks: feeble, pale and skinny.

District Four's male is usually comparable to the standards of District Two, but not this year.

The rest of the tributes are average. There don't seem to be any particularly weak tributes this year, not even from District Twelve. Even with Marlene's exceedingly, great skills, we're at a disadvantage this year.

I feel a hand snaking its way around my heart, squeezing it with a vice-like grip. It crushes my confidence of bringing Marlene back home into the tiniest sliver of hope.

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**A/N: What do you think Marlene's game plan will be? **


	31. Chapter 31

**Thank you Jamez S, Guilia982, HogwartsDreamer113, MsMKT68, S, PenMagic, QuinnDeRavensborough and Joe for reviewing! :)**

**Extra thanks to those who pointed out my incorrect American measurements, haha!**

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**XXXI. One Clump Of Seaweed **

He's done it. Well, they've finally done it.

The two costume designers for this District Four this year are complete whack jobs. I'd heard Marlene screaming and flipping chairs and tables over from outside her room, but only now do I understand why she had. I'd thought it was her usual self getting easily aggravated.

Wrong.

Caecilius and Calindia Armstrong are the worst pair of costume-designing siblings ever. As we step back to take in the ungodly sight of Marlene and Thomas, they squeal.

"Oh. My. _God_!" says Calindia. "These costumes are just _amazing_, don't you think, Finnick?"

"Um…" I stare at the duo and my jaw drops, momentarily. "Sure…"

Caecilius giggles and waves his hand in front of himself, as if he's just met his biggest idol. "I know. Fantabulous, right?" _Fantabulous? _"Anyway, Calindia and I must head off now. We're an essential part of the audience-" _I'm sure they are. _"And we wouldn't want to miss a thing! Remember not to ruin your costumes!"

They prance off, beaming like they've just found the magic pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Shaking my head, I groan. "This is horrible."

A sneer has etched itself on both of our tributes' faces as they watch their stylists bounce away. "You cannot _seriously _be telling me that I'm wearing this to the Opening Ceremony. This is ridiculous."

"I'm afraid you have to," Joseph says, offering a sympathetic smile. "Besides, it's not that… bad."

_Sure, it isn't_.

Marlene and Thomas have their bodies adorned with one tiny clump of seaweed, covering minimal area of their lower private parts, and Marlene has an additional tiny, clam shell bra to go with it, which doesn't really much to the imagination. Sand and seaweed have been clumped messily in their hair, disheveling their natural states into a huge bird's nest. They look like they've been scavenging for food in the poorest parts of the District for weeks. Thomas' prep team must have done a huge load of work, since the grease in his hair is no longer evident and he no longer reeks of raw fish.

"I guess it's best to leave it," I propose, uncertainly and look at Joseph for some guidance. "If you ruin it, Caecilius and Calindia are going to hate you for more than a few lifetimes."

"But, Finnick!" Marlene protests. "I have my dignity too, you know? This piece of shit won't gain either of us any sponsors."

"I'll get you guys sponsors, I swear," I reply and look at Thomas. "You too, kid."

He smile gratefully at me, and I assume he's warmed up to Joseph and I, maybe even Marlene but that's most likely a work in progress. As the elevator doors open, I place a firm hand on Marlene's bare shoulder and say, "Make friends." I subtly nod towards the bejeweled pair from District One who wave our two tributes over.

"They are no friends in the arena."

"True. Make allies, then. And remember to smile and wave out there."

"Finnick!" I hear Cashmere's familiar tinkering voice yell my name. I grin at her and her twin, making my way over. They're engaged in a conversation with a petite girl: Krystal Haddock of District Ten, Victor of the 67th Annual Hunger Games. I offer her a charming, knee-buckling smile and take her smaller hand in mind, planting a kiss on the back of it. "You must be the famous Krystal Haddock. It's _very _nice to meet you."

A rosy shade of pink blossoms on her cheeks and she momentarily seems to be overwhelmed. "Likewise, Finnick Odair," she replies, somewhat smoothly. Krystal, however, assumes that since Joseph, Gloss, Cashmere and I are together, we're about to engage in a Career conversation, so she leaves us to associate with Cecelia from Eight.

"Are we allying with Two this year?" Cashmere asks with a hushed whisper.

Joseph rolls his eyes and snorts loudly, attracting the attention of a few others but he ignores them. "Count my boy out."

"Well, obviously. If he joined the Career pack, he'd have his neck snapped within a split second anyway," Gloss says, indifferently. "Our tributes don't know if they want to stick with Two or not, but they're willing to take your girl and the kid from Seven." He gestures to a guy around eighteen-years-old, dressed as a tree. His muscles are rather defined, undoubtedly from years of lumberjack and axing away at tree stumps.

"I guess he'd be a good ally," I agree, nodding.

"Let's just watch the tributes train," Cashmere suggests. "We'll see then."

The boy from One leans towards Marlene, looking away from Thomas without a second glance. The close proximity between the two of them is almost non-existent. "Your kid better keep his hands off Marlene," I say to Gloss, scowling at his tribute. Orion adds a flirtatious smile – one that I know all too well – and winks.

Maybe not so goth anymore.

His costume probably took that aspect of him away, since he's got a pink, diamond encrusted body suit on at the moment. It's cringe-worthy but I don't doubt for a second that this is the usual costume for District One, and always considered to be one of the best dressed, with Two and Four following their footsteps.

"Why? She your girlfriend?" Gloss asks with an obnoxious smirk.

I almost scoff in disgust. "Nah. We're in the same classes at school, and I mentored her brother two years back. You know, the one where Althea Yule won?" I shoot a glare at Cashmere and she holds her hands up, an action often considered to be 'innocent'.

"As annoying as she may be, she was the best tribute I've had."

"Whatever. I actually plan on bringing his sister home."

We're ushered towards the front seats of the audience and I find myself sitting between Gloss and Enobaria. _Fantastic_. Enobaria shoots me a vicious, blinding smile, the city lights reflecting off her golden teeth. That action alone is enough to send shivers crawling down my spine.

I remember her Games rather vividly. It was the year before Gloss' victory: the 62nd Annual Hunger Games. Her Games has been and will most likely remain to be named as one of the most memorable of all time. Of course, it was mostly due to the fact that no one else really claims their victory by tearing another's throat out with their own teeth. While she was a tiny thing, that only made her presence even bolder. Naturally, to be fully aware that she's sitting right next to me, I unconsciously edge towards the right of my seat towards Gloss.

I may be a man, but no man has no fear.

Behind us, Haymitch and Blight complain about their tributes' costumes. "Hey, don't you dare complain, Abernathy," Blight says. "District Seven has been dressed as goddamned trees for who knows how many decades."

"Yeah? This year, my kids are in the nude with dust powder sprinkled all over them." Haymitch burps loudly and atrociously enough to have Cashmere and Cecelia complaining about his drunken actions. To further irritate them, he takes another long swig of his alcohol, waving the bottle about – just like Gloss had all those months ago.

"At least it's something new," Blight grumbles, folding his arms across his chest.

Haymitch cackles into my ear from behind. "I'm already sick of seeing their lack of costume."

Gloss's patience finally wears thin and he turns around, flipping the finger. "Shut the fuck up, would you?"

Instead of offering back a snarky reply, Haymitch decides to sway on the spot, laughing hysterically. Thankfully, the anthem begins to play and the tributes from District One appear. They wear smiles as dazzling as their attire and wave their arms around, a sight rather absurd on Orion. I notice through the close-up that the girl has a violet shade of purple for her eyes.

For a second or two, I think that District Two has two male volunteers this year, until I realise that the girl – Dee – has her dusty brown hair up in an intricate manner, and tucked underneath the headpiece she wears. "She looks like a joke to girls," Gloss says, and Enobaria is quick to shoot him a menacing glare, which doesn't affect him in the slightest.

District Three is dressed in the usual one-piece outfits of gadgets. This year, they're solar panels. I'm not completely sure what solar panels are, but with the blinding torchlights reflecting against the metal pieces of their outfit, I don't really want to know either.

And then, there's District Four.

We're a joke this year. Caecilius and Calindia had better be demoted next year. Our two tributes are wearing outfits that many women would call slutty, and I can't disagree. Seaweed should never be used as costume materials, I note to myself. Marlene's smile is blinding as she waves to the crowd, politely, but the fire sparking in her blue eyes is hard to miss.

The vast majority of their skin is out in the open for the entire of Panem to see, and I cannot even begin to imagine how humiliating it'd be if I were there for my Opening Ceremony.

Behind me, Haymitch barks out in laughter, slapping the back of my head a little roughly. "District Four's a joke this year."

I can almost see Joseph sulk as he says, "We know that, Abernathy. No need to rub it in, though you shouldn't be talking."

When District Seven appear, the diminished cheers become louder once again when the Capital view the tributes – or more specifically, the male tribute whose name is Corbin. He's just as much of a joke as Four this year, since his costume is the typical tree of District Seven. If only he had a costume which emphasized his physical stature, he'd seem to be more of a potential threat to Districts One and Two.

We find ourselves getting lost in the banter that seems to be a constant occurrence amongst the mentors, even with Drakula and Enobaria, who tend to stick to themselves. Before we know it, District Twelve are the last to appear and the group of mentors laugh and jeer as Haymitch does as well.

"You really need a new stylist, Abernathy," Chaff from Eleven says, clapping his back non-too-gently.

Cashmere giggles as she points to the pair from Twelve. "I don't think they covered _all _of their body parts with coal…"

When Snow finally finishes presenting his usual speech – which is a whole load of bull – Joseph and I manage to weave my way through the crowd of tributes, mentors and ceremony coordinators, to find Marlene fiddling with end of a seaweed strand and Thomas, twiddling with his thumbs. "Come on, let's go before anyone else comments about how ridiculous you guys look," Joseph says, to which Marlene replies with a scowl and a sarcastic, "Thanks for the support."

We share the lift with the tributes from Seven and their mentors Blight Marah and Wren Kardrine. The boy, Corbin, offers Marlene and Thomas a civil smile, to which they send back. As we walk out, the elevator doors close behind us and I drag Marlene to her temporary bedroom. "Shower and get changed."

I'm more than grateful when she complies with my orders and does so rather quickly. She comes out in an oversized shirt and tight leggings, running her hand through her damp, black hair and she sits down on the bed, next to me.

"What's your plan?" I ask her.

She chews on her bottom lip, and twiddles her thumbs, glancing away from me. "I actually don't know."

"You… don't know," I repeat.

"I don't know."

"What are you planning on doing?"

"I know you're thinking that I'll charge straight into the Cornucopia and just slice every body that comes my way in half, but I'm not." She pauses for a brief moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "The Games aren't just about brute, right? I saw your Games and you weren't a killing machine or anything. Like, Mags won by hiding so there's got to be _something _that involves the manipulation or innovation of the brain."

I admit, that's probably the opposite of what I'd originally thought she'd planned on doing. I feel some of the metaphorical pressure on my shoulders, relieved that she's not entering the Games in the same way Andromeda and Wes did last year.

"How about for training tomorrow?"

"You have two and a half days of training. Divide your time up between nature skills: climbing, edible plants, creating fires, and such, and weapon training. On the third day, you'll show your talents off to the Gamemakers. "

She rolls her eyes. "I know _that_. Everyone does." And there's the fire, once again.

"I'm not going to tell you what I think you should do in the arena just yet; not your allies anyway," I say, tapping my fingers on the soft bed sheets. "I'll be watching you and the other tributes train. Make some friends, especially with Districts One and Two, and the guy from Seven. I'm assuming Thomas is going to make his own allies, and I suggest you to not learn the names of the younger and… more _innocent _tributes. Oh, and don't show off everything you can do."

Marlene nods and for a moment, she looks somewhat innocent – _somewhat _being the key word. She turns to me and asks, "You'll get sponsors, right? We probably looked like fools tonight."

I laugh, bitterly, mentally reminding myself to give the Armstrong sibling stylists a good talk later. "You looked more than just fools, but of course, I'll get you sponsors."

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**A/N: Who believes that Marlene will win the Games? Or is everyone just hoping that Thomas will pull through? Haha, please leave your thoughts in your reviews! :)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Thank you S, error. malfunction. rebecca, HogwartsDreamer113, scarlet, Jamez S and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :)**

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**XXXII. Dee**

"Are you _sure_ you have to leave now, Finny?"

Her fingertips slowly inch dangerously close towards my lower region, sending shivers down my spine. My grip on Aurelia's waist tightens for a brief moment before I nod, almost reluctantly. _Maybe I could gain a bit more sponsor money from her? _I think. She's one of the wealthiest women in the Capital. If anyone can gain sponsor money from her, it'd most likely be me.

I lean in to kiss the base of her neck gently, squeezing her petite waist. Her auburn hair tickles my collarbone and shoulder as she leans into my touch, and I pull back. "You know I have tributes to look out for, Aurelia."

Her bottom lips juts out in a slight pout but she nods in understanding. "Of course… District Two seems to have very promising tributes this year."

"They do," I agree. "But I have your word that you'll sponsor both Marlene and Thomas, correct?"

A satisfactory smile forms on her face and she promises, "You can count on it - five thousand each, for now."

I plant one more kiss on her cheek before hastily pulling on my clothes. "Thank you. I'll see you later, Miss Winters," I farewell with a wink and rush out of her house.

Aurelia Winters may be the customer I visit the most, but she's probably the most considerate of all. But then, I suppose the fact that she looks like a normal woman makes me a little biased. Like Doctor Audrye, she looks district-worthy with her auburn hair and brown eyes, and not to mention, normal skin colour. Sex itself isn't everything for her. Out of the twelve times we've met up, she mostly offers up her lunch or dinner breaks so we can catch up on small talk. Many times, she's complained about her parents who are always demanding the best of her. Our sex is often just something we use to release our pent up emotions - most of which are usually frustration and anger. I think we're close enough to be classified as 'friends with benefits', and my relationship with Cashmere has grown to be exactly the same, though Gloss has no clue about it at all.

But at this point, after all these visits to the Capital, I don't even care about my image in front of Panem anymore, as long as President Snow is pleased with my actions.

As I enter the Training Centre, I find more than just a few mentors studying their own tributes from above, with frowns etched on their faces. We stand on the opposite side of the Gamemakers and we're concealed with an invention that's been named a forcefield - something I still have yet to understand, not that I bother to.

I drag a chair to the edge and sit down, watching as Marlene interacts with the other Careers, or more importantly, _Corbin _from Seven. Her actions may seem all clunky and awkward around him, but it's more than obvious that she's less so around him. I almost want to shoot myself in the head because of how _stupid _she is.

The tributes all line up in single file, waiting for their turn on the obstacle course, and the Careers waste no time to jump to the front of the line - well, excluding Thomas, that is. He's decided to ally with the pairs from Six and Eight, a choice I find myself liking. All the Careers _but _the girl from Two, Dee manage to pass the obstacle course on the first time. She's too tall to duck quick enough. However, during her second attempt, she doesn't avoid anything. She bashes everything away with the mere flick of her hand.

"This isn't good," Cecelia says next to me, shaking her head and bites on her nails.

"Not good at all," Beetee agrees, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I don't like her." Gloss scowls at the girl as she pushes past both of District One's tributes like they weigh nothing more than a feather.

The rest of the mentors chip in their agreements, grumbling under their breath. We lounge across the seats, occasionally exchanging jokes and insults. Others would often find it absurd for us mentors to be so rude and offensive when we're grouped together, but usually, it's just the banter that puts the fun in things. And suddenly, everyone's up on their feet watching the tributes with a newfound fascination.

"_Fuck._" Out of all the people she could've picked a fight with, Marlene just had to pick _Dee_. "Can we go in there?"

"Nope."

"Such an idiot," I groan, watching the two girls below engage into a full blown fist fight. It's almost a ridiculous sight, since Dee dwarves Marlene by a good six inches and has biceps twice the latter's size. Marlene's quick on her feet and strong, but Dee's stronger. Just how reckless can she get?

Gloss clears his throat and glances over in my direction. "So, is the alliance on with Two?"

"I'd better hope not," I grumble, already on my way out of the room. Ignoring the elevator, I take the stairs down a storey, two steps at a time, desperate to stop Marlene from doing anything worse. By the time I arrive, several of the trainers have formed a barrier in front of the rest of the tributes who crowd around and two of them try pulling the girls apart.

"Mr Odair, you're not permitted in here!" one of them exclaims. When I scowl in return and say, "Does it look like I care?", he turns back to the situation at hand and reaches for Dee's shirt, only to be swatted back a few feet. Vaguely aware of the mentors above, hidden in sight, I wrap my arms around Marlene's torso, pulling her towards me. "That's _enough_, Summers."

"Get off me, you little sh-"

I drag Marlene along with me back into the elevator, despite the protests of the head trainer and click the button _'4'_. She almost escapes from my grip for a second, reaching for the button, which opens the doors. "What's your problem?" I ask her.

"She called me a _streetwalker _because I was talking to Orion and Corbin."

Inhaling a sharp breath, I run the palm of my hand over my face and sigh. "Ignore her."

"If someone called you a streetwalker, would you ignore them?"

Okay, so _maybe_ she had a point. "Yes," I admit. "But your alliances in the arena are important. Have you figured any allies?"

"One, Two, me and Corbin."

The elevator doors open and I allow her to enter our storey first. "I want you to stay away from her, by at least three feet."

"Yeah, got it, Finnick," she says. "Look, I need to get back to the Training Centre, okay?"

"No. You're staying here," I say, firmly. "I'll send you back later when both of you are calm."

I scoop up my usual bowl of sugar cubes and offer her one. She shakes her head, and we make ourselves comfortable on the couch. "Who's the leader of the pack?"

"Who do you think?" she replies with a vicious scowl.

"Marlene, just _try _to get along with her. At least, don't interact with her much if you guys are allied in the same group."

"The Career pack isn't going to last long this year, is it?" she asks, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"Do you want me to lie?"

"No."

"Then, no," I say. "Anyone can tell that the alliance isn't going to last so I suggest that you make sure to hold onto at least two of the members, to pull away from the group into a smaller pack."

"Daniala and Corbin," she replies automatically.

"Daniala?"

"From One."

"Right."

"She's got a great aim with knives and bows and arrows. Corbin's good with axes. I feel like I'm useless with them, though."

_And there's the first sign of weakness_. It's probably the only weak comment I'll ever hear from Marlene, and I almost find myself laughing at her confession. "I mean, I can use all weapons," she continues. "Knives, swords, spears, axes, you name it. But, I'm not great at just _one _thing. I'm just overall. I have no chance of coming back at all. It was a stupid choice for me to even think about volunteering at all." Her voice trails off into a murmur and she leans back against the couch, closing her eyes.

I flick her in the middle of her forehead with my index finger. Her eyes snap open and she glares at me. "Hey!"

"Don't you dare talk like that," I reprimand her, as if _I'm _the older one. "Yes, your decision was a stupid one, but I actually do understand your reasoning and urge to volunteer, believe it or not. For Maxwell, right?" Her lips curve up into an unhappy grimace at the mention of her deceased brother. "Well, do it for him. You said it yourself, you wanted vengeance. So, _use _that to survive."

She opens her mouth, but I interrupt before she has the chance to speak. "And don't tell me there's nothing going on between you and that guy from Seven, because God forbid, even Haymitch Abernathy, the densest man in the world, could see you give each other googly eyes."

"I do not give him googly eyes!" she protests.

"You'd better not get too close to him, Marlene. You'll only hurt yourself that way… He'll get hurt, too but most importantly, you'll feel guilty in the arena if you grow too close to someone."

"You mean, like how you did with Maya?"

"We were already close," I glare at her. "And _yes_, just like how I did with Maya."

She puffs her cheeks up, realising the mistake of bringing up the usually forbidden topic of the deceased girl. Marlene avoids my gaze for a few moments before complaining, "But I can't stand Dee! She's such a bitch!"

"You're being a bitch right now."

"Your _face _is a bitch."

"Your arse is a bitch."

Marlene huffs in irritation. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Naturally, a smirk find its way up to my lips and I say, "I got you five thousand dollars worth of sponsors." For a moment, she contemplates on what to say before she gives me an unexpected, "I love you so much right now, Odair," and bounds out the room, going back down to the Training Centre.

I don't know how or why, but I find my legs transporting myself to the bar next to the dining room. In a typical bar, Haymitch and Chaff would sit in two of the stools by the table in the corner, and they would laugh hysterically over a joke that I presume wasn't even funny at all. I pour myself a couple of glasses of classic martini, and pull a stool up right next to the girl, taking a long swig out of the glass.

The bitterness of the alcohol hits my taste buds rather unpleasantly and burns my throat. It feels as if it's on fire as I chug it down, and slam the first empty glass back on the table. It's _addictive_. No wonder Haymitch turned to alcohol.

I can almost hear Haymitch say, "Joining in on the booze, eh, Odair?" with a taunting grin.

The door opens and in walks Cashmere. She fetches her own bottle of wine from the cupboard and pours the red liquid into a glass. "What's up?"

"Being a mentor is so stressful," I reply.

"You're telling me. This is only your second time. All my tributes did last night were complain about the girl from Two. 'Oh my god, we're like, _so _going to lose this year,'" she attempts to make an impression of her female tribute, Daniala, and then speaks in a lower octave, "'Oh, shut up, Daniala. Let's just team up with Four and Seven, then take Two out. Easy.'"

Cashmere drinks her whole glass and angrily screws open the bottle again, pouring more of its contents out. "No. _Fucking _no. Not easy. You work with Two, or your head's chopped off in the bloodbath. Bloody _idiots, _never listening to a word I say - always thinking _they're _right and _I'm _the one that's wrong. No, no, no; _I _was the one who came out of that fucking arena alive. If either of them come out of the arena, I'm going to wring their neck myself."

I drown out her rambling. Her rants have been something I've grown used to over the past few years, and while she goes a bit overboard, it's fairly amusing. I'm not entirely sure if it's because of the three glasses of alcohol I've downed in the past ten minutes, or if it actually is because her rants actually are entertaining.

I'm brought into a state of numbness, as the drinks take over and control my actions. I manage to force another few drinks down, easing my frustration and pent-up anger towards Marlene from previous days, and enjoy the numbness for the time being. And it seems Cashmere, in the same haze as me, seems to have the same idea.

From previous experiences, I've found that our hormones go whack when we drink. One moment, we're having a somewhat ordinary, drunken conversation, and the next, we're pressed up against the wall, tearing each other's clothes off like there's no tomorrow. But in the end, everything just turns out to be a blur.


	33. Chapter 33

**Thank you Joe, PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113 and Bigpapi1234 for reviewing! :) **

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**XXXIII. Last Day**

"What's… this?"

Marlene crinkles her nose in disgust as she lifts up the flimsy, black article of women's clothing - or rather, _Cashmere's bra_. Smirking at her, I raise an eyebrow, suggestively. "Do you really need me to tell you?"

Joseph lets out a bark of laughter, failing to cover it up in an exaggerated cough, and Thomas' eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets as he blushes furiously.

"Never mind."

It's been two days since the argument between Marlene and Dee, and thankfully, nothing else has happened between them. Unnecessary drama before the Games isn't needed. Our two tributes have only just returned from their private sessions with the Gamemakers, and they're both nervous. It's not the staring-out-into-nowhere type of nervous. It's the whole body shaking, hand trembling and pressing lips together kind of nervous.

Marlene had thrown a fit at first. She'd entered the training room when the Gamemakers had gotten a little bored of the tributes of District Three, and had apparently, screamed for them to look at her - not that I'm all that surprised, of course. She'd thrown few spears around and mutilated several dummies in succession. Her game plan was obvious: injure from a long distance with a ranged weapon - most likely a spear or throwing knife - and then make the final blow with her sword, assuming that she hasn't already killed them, and no one else claims the kill.

Thomas, on the other hand, had apparently tied up a dummy, trapped it in a net and thrown a dagger at its heart - and it was spot on. Not many thirteen year old kids can achieve so much, but after watch all twenty-four tributes from above, I've noticed that this year, the field really _is _more advanced than usual. And it frightens me to no end.

Dinner goes by with a tense silence, as we wait for Caeser Flickerman's jet black hair to appear on the television screen. Joseph and I stuff our mouths with the delicious food that we're provided, not wanting anything to go to waste, because why not? He's only granted the chance to eat in the Capital every few years when he mentors, and I love to experience something different every once in a while. Of course, nothing can compare to the seafood back home.

Marlene picks at her food, sliding the prongs of her fork around the plate making her mashed potato look unappetising. She frowns and looks at her plate, like it's the most interesting object she's ever come across. For the past two days, I've realised that long gone is the girl who was so determined to avenge her younger, deceased brother. She's been replaced by a young girl, so innocent and misunderstood back home and seeks for the comfort and understanding of at least one person.

Her eyes, often resembling the cold and bitterness of winter, have gone soft, and she looks as if she's sorrowful. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she regrets volunteering. Black rings decorate the patches around her eyes - she obviously hasn't been able to sleep properly - and Caecilius has constantly fretted over how she'll grow to become ugly if she doesn't appreciate her beauty sleep. Her movements are more sluggish when she's not training, like she's forcing herself to do something unwillingly, or she already feels as if she's been defeated.

As much as I hate to admit it, I've grown a soft spot for her. I wouldn't be able to cope with her death in that arena, but I'm betting that she won't die… _hopefully_.

The anthem rolls on screen, and I pay no attention to Caeser's usual introductory speech. When the scores are displayed, I swallow the chicken and stare at the screen, intently, hoping everything would just fast forward a little.

"Orion Higgins of District One… with a nine," Caeser announces with his usual grin.

Not bad for a guy who won't stop flirting with Marlene.

"Topaz-" Joseph snorts at the name. "- Mary with a seven."

The digit '2' revolves on screen before the male tribute, Lance, pops up with a seven as well. My jaw drops. "_Only_?" I question. "That guy was a fucking _bulldozer_." And plus the fact that the lowest a Career should receive is an eight.

Joseph shrugs. "Maybe he showed off all his skills during training and didn't save anything for the private session."

Marlene's nails dig into my arm painfully hard as Dee Allen's score of ten appears on screen. "Relax," I tell her, as we watch the pair from District Three receive five's.

A headshot of Thomas appears with a five. Joseph squeezes his shoulder, comfortingly. "Not bad, kid," he says, and Thomas nods glumly.

I recognise Marlene's blue eyes and jet black hair within an instant. "Marlene Summers of District Four, with an eight!"

"_Fuck!_"

The all too familiar fire in Marlene is back and she stands up abruptly, knocking her chair back in the process. "A bloody _eight_?"

"They have a new head Gamemaker this year," Joseph quips, calm and collected. "From what _I've_ seen, you should've gotten at least a nine. I'm sure they've either just changed things this year to spice it up, or they're scoring the tributes in comparison to each other."

"I'm going to die," she moans, hiding her face with her hands and flees to her bedroom.

After a few moments, I decide that I'll keep an eye out on the scores before checking up on her. With only two nights left in the Capital, not many tributes are in the mood to be within the presence of one who annoys them greatly. Corbin receives a seven, much like Lance and Topaz, and the rest of the scores are ranged from three's to six's. Okay, so maybe from the scores, it seems like the field is weak, but the public don't know what they think it'll be.

Carrying a bowl of my trademark sugar cubes, I open the door of Marlene's temporary room to find her in the middle of her bed, looking dead. "You're not going to die," I blurt out, not knowing what else to say.

"Sure," she replies. "Tell that to Dee."

"Please, I don't even want to go within a distance ten yards from her."

"Why? You scared?" she taunts with a smirk.

"Yeah, _in your dreams_, Summers."

"Ew, why would you be in my dreams?"

"I'm in every woman's dreams, Marlene. Soon, I'll be in yours too. It's just a matter of time."

"Mm-hmm."

She falls asleep. I'm not entirely sure how someone can just fall asleep so quickly and randomly, but I end up tucking her in bed with the blankets up to her chin and allow her to cherish a night's rest, because she needs it.

The next day is absolute chaos. Caecilius and Calindia screech at Marlene and Thomas to get their postures right, and their moods only worsen when Marlene continues to disobey them, for her own pleasure. "Just _do _it," Joseph whines, like he's the one suffering. Though, I wouldn't doubt for a second that he is. I can barely stand the screams of the two Capitalian siblings. It's horrendous. When our tributes finally get everything right, it seems as if the weight on their shoulders have been lifted off. Their shoulders quite literally sink back down as they sigh in relief.

"Smart?" I question Marlene and then shake my head, before she gets the chance to reply. "No, no. How about cunning? Maybe."

"How about hurry up because you only have an hour left, and do mysterious?" Joseph offers, as he coaches Thomas through a fake interview.

Throwing my hands up in the air dramatically, I reply, "But _everyone _does mysterious!"

"They don't pull it off well. Summers could."

I turn to Marlene. "We're doing mysterious."

And mysterious, she is. After a full-blown debate with Caecilius, I manage to persuade him to provide Marlene an appropriate and appealing outfit to wear. I guess I was a little unfair, since I'd threatened to have Snow fire him if he didn't comply to my orders. Caecilius had paled drastically and nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir," he'd said.

It's no surprise to me, nor the Capital - or maybe it is to the Capital, considering how dense they are - when District One uses the flirtatious and charismatic angle, while District Two use the whole ruthless, killing machine pair. It's been overused in the past few years, and obviously, the Delgado's, Enobaria and Drakula believe the opposite.

The same amount of applause to everyone else goes for Marlene. The dress she wears is tight around her bust, then flows out elegantly from the waist down, accentuating her curves perfectly. If anything, I'd recognise her as the queen of ice. The blue tone of it brings out her eyes greatly, and Caeser manages to compliment her more than just a few times during the interview. Her posture resembles one of a regal queen, with her back straight and her shoulders back, and the addition of her black hair being slicked back into a high ponytail (she'd refused to leave her hair down).

Whenever Caesar asks her a question concerning family, home and boys, she stays quiet. One time, she even pretends to zip her lips with a mischievous smile, before tossing an imaginary key over her shoulder. For a moment, I swear that the smile on my face can't grow any bigger. This girl's got mad acting skills.

That night, we sit in her room discussing tactics. "I know you regret volunteering and I know that you don't have the will to fight anymore, but Marlene," I say, "You _have _to. You have your parents, friends and other family. Do it for them, okay? Yes, you might've been closest to Maxwell, but he'd want you to fight. You're all the way here already-"

"So, don't turn back. Got it."

"You're going to run for the Cornucopia. You've got long legs and you're a good runner. You'll probably get there before most others, and grab the closest weapon. Don't you fucking dare search for a goddamned sword, because I swear if you do, I'll kill you myself," I threaten her. "I've watched people rummage for their desired weapons and get beheaded from behind."

"I'm not stupid, Odair."

"I think everyone knows for a fact that the Career pack won't last long this year, so choose at least two people and stick on their good side, so when the fight between the Careers start, they have your back… Actually screw that. You're _running _as fast as you can and as far away as you can. If you do the former, I'll kill you myself as well," I add on.

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," I apologise, stretching my arms and yawning. "I'm not really good at this but I assume you've got the jist of what to do, right?"

"Yeah," she replies. "I'll just go with the flow. Do what my instincts say-"

"Not when your instincts tell you to go fucking psycho and engage into fistfights with women the size of Panem."

Marlene scowls at me. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Well, you were stupid enough to do that in training."

"Whatever."

She stays silent, picking at her nails and I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry," I say. "Like I said, I'm not really good at this. Just try come back, okay? We've had heaps of rough patches, but I believe in you."

"Thanks, Odair." Marlene looks up at me and smiles a genuine smile. "And if I _do _come back, I have one condition."

"What is it?"

And the next sentence, she speaks so smugly. "You have to tell Annie how you feel about her."

I almost fall off the bed. "_What? _First Oliver, and now _you?_ I don't like her! I don't even _know _how I feel about her, to be honest."

"Then, think about it," she says, laying down on her bed and pulling the covers over her body. "While I'm in the Games, you think about it, and when I come back, you tell her."

"You said 'when I come back,'" I pointed out with a lazy grin.

"No, I didn't," she replies, rolling her eyes. "I said _if_. Get it right, Odair."

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**A/N: Sorry for the fast pace of the chapter! I didn't really want to drag it out into two boring chapters so I squished it into one. Any guesses on what the arena will be like? :)**


	34. Chapter 34

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, QuinnDeRavensborough and Joe for reviewing! :)**

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**XXXIV. The 68th Annual Hunger Games**

The Avox injects the liquidised medicine into my arm and I force a smile. "Thanks," I mutter under my breath. Pulling out one of the two wheelie chairs in front of District Four's table, I sit down next to Wiress. I greet her with a polite nod, and she offers a smile that's not quite there. But then again, she's never really appeared to be very sane.

"Launching in one minute."

The mentors are finally greeted with the map of the arena this year. A string of curses weave through the group of mentors as we gather around our screens. With twenty-three mentors, the room seems crowded even if it is large.

The arena is a perfect square, split right in half from the top right hand corner to the bottom left corner. One half is desert with sand dunes, sedimentary rocks and caves, and the other half is an arctic environment with light snowfall and glaciers. Despite these two contrasting environments and the lack of plant life they often have, the arena is decorated with trees, which don't seem to be the least bit affected by the extreme climate. It seems almost surreal, but I suppose the Gamemakers can in fact, make anything happen.

Haymitch laughs drunkenly from across the room and yells, "District Twelve _lives _for snow."

Unfortunately, District Four's weather is nowhere even close to either of these two environments. Sure, it can be hot, but it's more of a tropical rainforest climate than a desert. I'm assuming that Thomas would head for the desert, while Marlene situates herself with the Careers right at the border in between, which would be the smartest choice.

The desert region shows to have no sources of water, and in an instant, we all know that this specific element will be the hardest to maintain. Trekking through nothing by ice is undoubtedly a difficult task, though I have no experience.

The countdown begins and a tense, hushed silence comes upon us. Checking the next screen, I breathe out a sigh of relief as I notice that Marlene has over a million dollars' worth of sponsors. Clicking back, I scan my eyes over the screen, instantly spotting Marlene's long, black hair.

This year, the ring of tributes is set smack-bang in the middle of the arena, with twelve on the desert side and the other twelve in the polar region. Even an idiot would know that the one situated in the desert will reach the golden Cornucopia first - unless someone decides to slide along the ice, which isn't the most logical solution.

Thankfully, Marlene stands on a pedestal in the desert, between the girl from Eight and Corbin. The others in their alliance are spread out evenly, and Dee stomps on her pedestal in rage when she realises she's received the disadvantage of starting off on ice. Topaz (Cashmere's tribute), Corbin and Marlene are all situated on the same side and seem to be engaging themselves in a silent conversation with only eyebrow lifts and hand waving as gestures.

I don't understand. Neither does Cashmere nor Blight.

The gong rings out from the speakers and the bloodbath begins. As all the tributes surge forward to grab their weapons or flee to escape their death, the mentors start screaming at their screens. Everyone's screaming at their tributes to do whatever, despite the fact that they can't hear their mentors anymore.

Joseph and I watch as Thomas make a lunge for the backpack in front of him and flee back into the desert. _Good choice. _

I lean forward, silently and watch as Marlene rushes forward quickly with Topaz right at her heels. My tribute grabs hold of a nearby spear, Topaz manages to retrieve a set of knives and Corbin grabs his axe. Together, the three of them band together to fight off the pettier tributes, while the other half of their alliance struggles to move towards the Cornucopia. Evidently, not many have experienced snow.

Marlene makes the first kill of the Games. She flings the spear out of her hands and the weapon impales itself in the stomach of the boy from Eleven. He collapses onto the ground, blood dribbling out of his mouth and gags for a few seconds before falling limp. It's a quick kill, at least.

Next, Topaz flings a dagger at a nearby tribute - the girl from Three. The dagger embeds itself into her side and before she can even think of taking another few steps, Corbin's slammed the sharp edge of his axe into her stomach. Another dead.

To many mentors' disgust, Dee has given up on reaching the weapons, and she's using her own hands. She's tall and strong; her arms reach out to the tribute beside her easily and with one easy push, the tribute's feet slide from underneath him and his body collides onto the ice with a loud _thud_. Dee grabs a hold of his head and smashes it onto the ice.

"Ouch," Joseph mutters.

"Fuck you!" the male mentor from Five booms at Enobaria.

Several tributes manage to escape the clutches of the Careers either by grabbing a weapon and simply surviving, or fleeing. Wielding only a dagger in her right hand, Marlene lunges for another female tribute about half her size. The girl releases a strangled scream as Marlene yanks her hair and slits her throat.

The bloodbath takes twenty-seven minutes this year and for that duration of time, I'm sitting right on the edge of the seat. Marlene seems to engage in several duels and constantly gains the upper hand against her opponent. Thrice, she's done so and ended up sandwiching the other tribute between herself and either Topaz or Corbin, with the latter completing the final blow with a deep slice at the back of the neck. It seems like they're the power duo for now.

Half an hour into the Games, ten tribute screens in the Mentor Room have gone black. The girl from Three, both from Five, the girl from Eight, both from Nine and Ten, the boy from Eleven and the boy from Twelve are gone.

"There isn't even snow. It's _ice_," Lance, the male from Two, complains, basking in the sun.

"Quit your whining already," Marlene replies with an eye roll. "Everyone, pick your weapons and set camp up, yeah?"

"Who made you in charge?" Dee questions, towering over her.

"No one but I don't see anyone else doing anything so I decided to step up," she says, smoothly. "Besides, you three didn't even claim any kills."

"I killed one."

"Yeah, uh, it isn't that hard to get someone to trip onto the ice and slam their head into the ice. Quite pathetic, if you ask me."

Dee's face turns an ungodly shade of purple as she points a threatening finger at Marlene. "Lance and Orion didn't even _claim_ any kills."

The canon goes off and ten gongs sound. "We," Marlene says, gesturing towards herself, Corbin and Topaz, "claimed six of those kills. You three are out hunting first."

Marlene's actions during the bloodbath have left me questioning whether she's lost it or not. Has she given in to the bloodlust? Her eyes, calm and collected, seem to tell a different story, but now, I can't be certain anymore. With a flick of her hair, Marlene unzips her jacket and enters the Cornucopia, running her hands recklessly over the collection of weapons. Weighing two of the same swords in each of her hands, she slides one into the sheath she has that's tied around her waist and hangs over her tracksuit pants. Gingerly, she clips two small knives into the inside of her jacket and straps two spears to her back. Topaz and Corbin come in, like little lap dogs, and grab their own item choices - knives and axes. Orion, Lance and Dee assign themselves their own weapons, which mostly consist of the same as the other three.

As the others loiter around outside and set up their own sleeping arrangements, Marlene decides to stay in the Cornucopia. "What's she looking for?" Joseph asks me, but I'm just as baffled. I shrug, shaking my head helplessly.

It must've been at least five minutes until the slightest shadow of a smirk appears on her face. She reaches forward to open up the lid of one small crate in the back corner of the Cornucopia - a crate nobody else had noticed.

Gloss laughs and shakes his head. "You've got a smart girl there, Odair."

_What? _

Marlene folds her hand around an object, which creates a familiar sound - one that I can't quite pinpoint - and without opening her fist, she shoves the time in her pocket, her eyes flittering towards the opening of the Cornucopia.

"What was that?" I ask Joseph.

"No idea."

She pulls out a pair of knuckle-dusters, wrapping one around her right hand and hooking the other into her belt loop. Now, I finally understand why Gloss had said she was smart.

Gloss had used a pair of knuckle-dusters, a sword and a set of throwing knives to win his Games, and it seems that Marlene has the same plan, with the exception that she's better with spears than knives. Of _course _he'd think she's smart.

"Well, come on," Marlene says. "You guys going or not? No one could've gotten that far."

Dee shoots her a scowl, while Orion and Lance comply to her orders. _Suck ups_, I think as they venture out into the dense foliage behind the Cornucopia. "Should we camp on the ice or in the desert?" Corbin asks.

"Ice," Topaz replies instantaneously. "Like, if you're cold, you can always put more layers on and if you're hot, it doesn't even help if you're naked."

"Do you have the sponsors to keep you warm?"

She winks at him. "No but body heat will."

Marlene watches them two of them in disgust and picks at her nails. "This is the goddamned arena. Couldn't you have flirted during training instead?"

That night, the other three of the alliance turn up without any kills. "Everyone's in hiding," Orion had explained before the six of them begin feasting on the food the Gamemakers have supplied in the Cornucopia. They're huddled up in two sleeping bags each, and still shiver. Hovering my mouse over the icon of the electric blanket, which apparently doesn't even need electricity in the arena, and click _send_. The bucket drifts down and lands inches away from Marlene's feet. Her lips curve up into a small grin as she wraps the blanket around her. "Thanks, Odair," she murmurs, softly.

By now, almost every tribute has fallen asleep and the Mentor Room is silent, until a knock on the door is heard. The female Avox from before enters, holding a white slip of paper with blood red calligraphy written on the centre of it.

"Who's that for?" Cashmere asks.

It turns out there are two slips - one for both Cashmere and I. Holding back a sigh, I read the address. Looks like I have another customer tonight.

"Look out for Marlene, would you?" I say to Joseph. He nods and waves me off. "Of course. Go do whatever."

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**A/N: Sorry for the super duper boring chapter! I really don't like it because I feel like it's really rushed (and I'm pretty sure it is) but I just can't seem to make it any better or at least, any more decent, so I gave up. To be honest, I really don't know how the 68th Games will go on. I've planned out the Victor and the after-events, but not anything that happens in the arena, SO that means everything will be pretty spontaneous - my apologies **


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you Bigpapi, PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, QuinnDeRavensborough, Jamez S and HogwartsDreamer113 for reviewing! :) **

**So, I have two weeks of holiday now, yay! That should mean more writing, but I've had this new obsession with Game Of Thrones so we'll see, haha. **

**Also, I've come to the decision that I want to keep this story T so no one needs to search for it. Of course, there will be occasional parts where we go into Finnick's sex life, but nothing too explicit - I'll give you warning in the A/N at the beginning. **

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**XXXV. Plastic Bags **

The woman's body convulses beneath me. It's almost like she's having a seizure.

She drags her nails down my back painfully, leaving ribbons of red flesh behind and she clings onto me for dear life. Lyddia reaches her high, screeching, "Finnick!"

Her legs tighten around my torso, pulling me impossibly closer and archs her back as her full breasts flatten against my own naked chest. She releases a string of incoherent curses and whimpers, her teeth clamping onto the base of my neck while she swerves to hips in an attempt to make her pleasure last a little longer. Faking my own appreciative moan, I gingerly remove her legs from my waist and pull my flaccid organ out of her.

Lyddia' still panting heavily when she pulls her purple bedsheets over our bodies, slick with sweat. The wall we're facing has a TV screen, which broadcasts the Hunger Games live. I guess even in the Capital the screens turn on by themselves.

Unfortunately, neither Marlene and her alliance nor Thomas are on screen. There's only footage of a girl wondering in the desert and Caesar's recurring comments.

"I can't stay for long," I say, feeling desperate to make my way back to the Mentor's Room and to stay glued to my seat. It's the fourth day of the Games and so far, no deaths have occurred apart from the bloodbath. The Capital is impatient and it's only a matter of time before the mutts are unleashed this year.

She pushes her bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout and places a small, dainty hand on my inner thigh. "But I asked for another hour, didn't I?"

"I wasn't aware of that, sweetheart, but you know I have tributes to take care of… _and _you've tired me out," I reply, placing my hand over hers and offer her a cheeky wink.

Lyddia's not a particularly attractive woman, even by Capital standards, but her hair resembles so much like the appetising red velvet cupcakes that I come quite close to as delicious as sugar cubes. I can't resist the temptation to twirl a stray strand of her red hair around my finger, tugging on it lightly.

"Ah, yes," she giggles. "I also do know just how bothersome taking care of tributes can be. Gloss is also running around like a mad man these days."

_So that's why she seemed so familiar_.

"You escort District One?" I ask, exaggerating my shock.

"Yes, yes, such a lovely district. I even escorted District One when Gloss won - but such a troublesome, young man, he was," she sighs, shaking her head with a look of disappointment, which a mother often gives her child. "Now, he's so serious all the time."

I open my mouth to speak because I really _do _need to go, to look after Marlene. I've already spent the night with Lyddia and I can't afford to waste anymore time. Unfortunately, she continues on. "The man won't stop looking around for anything lurking around. Honestly, the year before your Games - so, Cashmere's games - Gloss found out that the reaping's were rigged and he threw a tantrum; a tantrum, I tell you…"

The fact that the reapings were rigged doesn't faze me the slightest - everyone mentor had their own suspicions. Nobody's happy about it but we can't do anything.

But it hits me. It quite literally _hits _me, as she exaggerates her hand actions a little too much and she hits me in the face. "Oh, sorry!" Lyddia squeaks, before continuing on with her monologue.

_Secrets_. Perhaps I didn't know all of Gloss' story, but it's not like that surprises me much. Scrap all those petty gold trinkets that the women offer me - they can give me something off more worth and something that can't be hidden forever.

"So what's _your _biggest secret?" I turn around and face the woman. She stares back at me, momentarily stunned and her red eyelashes flutter. Lyddia giggles a tinkering giggle and says, "It's called a secret for a reason, Finnick."

"Okay, what's _a _secret that you know? A rumour, perhaps?"

"Well, there is _one _rumour…" she replies. "Have you ever noticed that President Snow smells like he's used too much perfume?"

"It's uh, pretty hard to miss, if you ask me."

"Every once in a while, Snow will throw a party for his twenty most important delegates and occasionally, he'll throw in a few random people. If anyone does anything out of line, President Snow won't miss it. He uses a poison and sneaks it in everyone's drinks, and it takes about thirty-six hours for the poison to actually make an appearance in one's body, I think. Obviously, if he doesn't drink from his glass, it'd be rather suspicious, wouldn't it?"

Lyddia waits for me to respond and I nod.

"Well, he does drink the poison but Snow, _apparently_ has this really enhanced immune system, where he doesn't die from the poison. He has sores in his mouth and to cover up the smell of the poison and blood he breathes out, he uses roses and perfumes."

"Wow, that's…" I trail off, speechless. Sure, I've always known that President Snow uses an exceeding amount of rose and perfume scents, but I'd never even assumed that it was for a reason even close to this. Unable to continue the sentence, I look over at the clock on her bedside and say, "It's been an hour, Lyddia. Is it alright if I use your bathroom?"

"Of course. Thank you for coming."

"No, thank _you_."

After I take a much needed shower and pull on my clothes from yesterday, I'm off once again to the Mentor's Room, which thankfully, is only ten minutes away. But even when it's ten minutes away, the walk there seems to take forever and a day.

"Has anything happened?" I ask, taking my place in the seat beside Joseph.

He lounges across three seats, with a burger in hand and shakes his head as he takes a huge bite. "Eight and Twelve: gone. Look for yourself," he manages to say whilst chewing the food in his mouth.

The Careers have split off into pairs for the day. Corbin and Topaz mark their area around the Cornucopia, wondering around to keep the other tributes away. Lance and Dee have decided to scope out the icy tundra behind the mass of trees, while Marlene and Orion head the other direction and explore further out into the desert.

"So," Orion says with a cheeky grin, attempting to make conversation, "Got a boyfriend back home?"

Marlene barely casts a single glance at him and rolls her eyes. "No. I assume you don't either."

"Why would I have a boyfriend?"

"You look like you roll that way," she shrugs. "You flirt so much that it's like you're hiding the fact that you're gay."

"Shouldn't I be saying that about your mentor, Finnick Odair?"

"Please, Finnick likes anything with two legs and can walk."

"That's not true!" I protest, and my outburst follows with a chorus of laughter.

"Shh," Cashmere hushes the room as Marlene and Orion freeze. Checking the main projector, I realise that Thomas is barely fifteen metres away with his alliance, the pair from Six.

"Did you hear that?" Orion asks.

A sudden rush of rapid footsteps pound against the sandy texture of the desert and the two of them are instantly sprinting after their victims. Joseph shakes his head with a sigh and together, we watch the two predators chasing after the other three. Thomas ends up hiding behind a rather thorny bush, leaving his two allies to stop and wonder where he's gone.

_Such fools, _I think to myself.

Their hesitance allows Orion and Marlene the amount of time to catch up to the pair from District Six, who wield only a dart gun and three knives, as opposed to the large number of weapons their opposition carry. All four of them are panting, sweat dripping down their foreheads and drenching their shirts. The heat has evidently taken a toll on all of them. Orion stumbles forward with a devious smirk as he targets the larger of the two - the girl - and swings his sword up. Marlene, on the other hand, freezes, her face paling rather significantly.

The boy from Six already has his right arm reared back and charges towards Marlene, weapon poised in hand. She stays frozen on the spot, swivelling her head around looking for _something_, and I want to scream, "_Kill him!"_

And apparently, I do, as many other mentors turn to stare at me for a moment before returning back to their screens. As usual, the mentors for Six are high on their drugs and are twirling around on their wheelie chairs.

At the very last moment, Marlene raises her sword up and almost instantly disarms the boy. Within seconds, he crumples to the ground like a rag doll with Marlene's sword sticking out of his chest. The girl fairs better than the boy but that doesn't stop Orion for taunting her. "Come on, little girl. Is that all you've got?"

Unfortunately, Thomas chooses this exact moment to come out of the bushes and into the opening. Orion notices immediately and gives up toying with the girl, swiping his blade into her neck and slices her head off like a knife through butter. The cannon booms twice, signalling the deaths of the pair from District Two. Orion laughs a bitter, yet amused laugh and turns to Marlene. "Your own District partner, Marlene. Would you like the honour of killing this weasel?"

She responds with utter silence as the three of them stare at each other. Thomas has his eyes wide open in horror, his feet rooted onto the spot. Rather subtly, she glares at the puny boy to make a run for it and he either notices and can't seem to move, or he actually is too dense to understand her gestures.

Orion throws his head back, laughing sadistically. "Come on, Mar. Give the audience a show, will you?"

"No," she denies, her tone strong and firm. "If you want to give them a show, then you do it."

"Fine by me," he shrugs. Orion runs his finger along the bloodied blade of his sword and swings the weapon around, effortlessly. As he advances towards Thomas, Marlene screams, "Run!"

_Finally_, he runs.

Marlene lifts her own sword up, intercepting Orion's strike and the boy from One stares at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?" he demands in rage. "What'd you do that for?"

"He's my district partner."

"He's going to die anyway! I could've-"

"Just leave it," she barks. "If he's going to die anyway, you can come back for him later. I'm sick of all your yabbering."

That night, the head shots of the girl and boy from District Six appear up in the sky, followed by the Capital seal. Even though Orion takes the first night shift, Marlene stays awake. Her eyes are wide open and she's turned to the side, pretending to be asleep. Two or three hours later, she sits up, rubbing her eyes and faking a yawn.

"You can take over my shift," Orion tells her. He lays down in the desert region and clutches onto his sword as he crawls into the sleeping bag. As soon as his head hits the soft lump of his sleeping bag, he's knocked out.

Marlene makes her way out of her sleeping bag, reaching into her pocket and brings out a plastic bag and a small bottle. A few tablets drop out into her hand when she takes the cap off and Marlene manages to creep over to Orion, quietly enough and drops pill by pill into his mouth.

A few seats to my right, Gloss bangs his fist onto the table. "Damn it," he curses.

Orion's breathing slows down and in a few minutes, Marlene slips the plastic bag over his head. His eyes snap open and he panics, waving his arms around, but Marlene's quick to pin him down. Her knees press into his lower abdomen, and her feet dig into his knees, stopping him from moving. She presses her hands against his elbows, pinning his arms down and he moves his head around in an attempt to nod the bag off. The plastic bag fogs up and his eyes widen, as he struggles to breathe. I would think that a Career would have learnt to stay calm in such a situation but I guess I've been proven wrong, as Orion continues to thrash around despite Marlene's constricting hold.

"Shut _up_," Marlene hisses at him, as if it'll make him shut up. It's amazing that none of the others in their alliance have woken yet, but I assume that the hot climate has worn them out during the day. His limbs finally fall limp and his eyelids droop. Marlene quickly moves off of him and back into her sleeping bag.

Only seconds later does Orion's cannon sound.

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**A/N: Who do you guys think is going to win the Games?! :O **


	36. Chapter 36

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, QuinnDeRavensborough and Guest for reviewing! :) **

* * *

**XXXVI. Deal Or No Deal? **

Gloss already has his things packed up and is on his way out the Mentor's Room. He leaves but not before kissing Cashmere's cheek and shoving my head against the screen, none too gently - but not too roughly either. We easily laugh it off and he says, "See you next year, Odair."

"Aren't mentors supposed to stay back for the Victor's ceremonies?" I ponder.

"Yeah but Gloss has a kid now and he's off the hook for the meantime," Cashmere responds. "Your girl is one cunning devil, I'm telling you."

I allow myself to grin. "Oh, I know."

My grin fades away almost as quickly as it appeared when I see the rest of Marlene's alliance wake up. "Who _did _this?!" Topaz screeched, fanning herself and breathing heavily. She looks like she's having a seizure with the way she's acting - wide eyes, slack jaw, frantic movements and what not.

Marlene pretends to wake up, yawning and rubs at her eyes. "Who was on guard last?"

"Orion," Dee scowls, picking at the plastic bag floating around his head. "What a useless shit."

"He must've crawled into this sleeping bag for warmth and fell asleep, then some stupid other tribute did this." Lance shakes his head in disappointment. "He didn't even die in the midst of a fight. How disrespectful."

"Go back to sleep," Dee barks at everyone. "I'll take the next shift."

"I'll join," Marlene offers, unwilling to allow Dee to be the only one awake. The monstrous girl only nods and scowls in response, though it seems like she's always scowling.

That night goes by with one more death: the girl form Seven dies of the cold. As the remaining five Careers swap shifts every so often, the remaining eight mentors are gathered backstage for the interviews. The arena's down to the final eight now and it's only been five days. The tributes and the arena this year are ruthless. Throughout my interview, I'm desperate to go back to check Marlene's screen, to make sure she's okay and to make sure Dee hasn't chopped her head off. As Caesar attempts to strike up a conversation between the two of us in front of the cameras, my level of patience starts to run thin.

"So, Finnick," he says, leaning forward. "How do you think Marlene's going right now? Do you think she can win? Because we've sure seen quite a lot of potential from her."

"She's doing her absolute best," I reply, firmly. "I don't doubt for a second that she can't win, because she can and she will. Marlene Summers has been one of my friends for years and I trust that she'll be able to return. Don't you dare think otherwise, Caesar."

He bobs his head up and down with his typical grin. "Ah, yes. I heard you were friends. Now, if I recall, you mentored her younger brother two years back, didn't you? Maxwell, was it?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel about that? I mean, I think we're all curious here. Did that change anything between yourself and Marlene?"

"Actually, if anything, it's brought us closer." _Kind of_, I add in mind. "And that's all I'm telling you." I smirk, pretending to zip my lips up and toss the imaginary key into the crowd of women.

"Ah, mysterious as always," Caesar replies with a shake of his head. He smiles, nonetheless. "Well Finnick, unfortunately, that's all we have time for. I imagine you're dying to get back to mentoring. Good luck."

"Thank you, Caesar. It's been a pleasure."

I shake his hand onstage and blow a few kisses out into the audience, and sprint all the way back to my station. For a few hours, I eat and watch as the Careers sleep, staying alert for any potential threats to them.

And it turns out, they do. When the sun rises, a mutated mountain lion manages to sneak up on them as Topaz picks at her nails, carelessly. When she lifts her head up, she wails a loud, ear-shattering scream. She doesn't even need to scream, _'RUN!'_ before the rest of the Careers are picking themselves up onto their feet and running for their lives. Marlene and Dee seem to be the slowest, as they had originally slept closest to Topaz and spend a few moments to gather their weapons before sprinting towards the trees in the desert.

They stumble over their own feet, and squint to see through the harsh glare of the sun, its rays reflecting off the ice. My heart seems to pound erratically, faster than it should, as I watch the mountain lion lunge towards Marlene. She releases a shocked cry as it latches its large jaw around her left leg, and she falls to the ground with a loud _thump_. Its paws claw at her arms, leaving angry red marks behind.

"No, no, no," I shake my head and repeat the words over again. "Come on, Summers."

As the monstrous creature removes its vice grip from Marlene, it bares its teeth at her, revealing the pointy ends of the rows of teeth. A mountain lion with shark teeth seems to be such an atrocious thought at the moment.

Corbin from Seven, thankfully - but not so fortunately for him - drags Marlene back up to her feet. _Wrong move_, I think. Before I can even blink, Marlene's shoved the poor guy onto the ground and he's sent sprawling, groaning as he makes a futile attempt to get back up to his feet. While I'm not in the arena, simply witnessing the scene seems to send a rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I'm barely aware of Blight's exclamation. "Finnick Odair!"

The mountain lion pounces onto Corbin barely a second later, tearing a section of his torso off, revealing the audience an abundant sight of blood and guts. The kid roars in agony and he writhes on the ground to no avail as the mutt claws its paws at him and chews parts of his body off.

"Ugh, _gross," _Seeder from Eleven comments, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

The cannon sounds.

Now there are only the remaining Careers, Thomas, the boy from Three and the Seeder's girl. I'd expected the alliance to have broken up at this point of the Games, but I reckon the short duration of the Games so far are a contributing factor to why they're still banded together.

The mountain lion backs off, leaving the Careers be and the four of them stop in the middle of the desert's clearing catching their breaths. It's still funny to call the area a desert clearing. In most cases - if not, all - deserts would usually consist of sand dunes, sand storms and minimal plant life; cacti would be a typical sight. But trees that I've dealt with in my own arena - a rainforest of sorts - are planted not only into the desert floor, but also the ice. The ice has somehow been kept frozen despite the harsh beatings of sunrays and tree trunks have been rooted into place. Trees are abundant in both regions. None of the other mentors seem to be big fans of the arena this year either.

Blood soaks through the pant leg of Marlene's left calf, and she grimaces as she attempts to pull the fabric away from her skin. I make a mental note to give her some medication and antiseptics when she's in a safer area and when she's alone. "Ouch," Topaz says sympathetically, as if feeling her pain. Marlene shrugs it off.

"You stupid boy!" Joseph screams at his screen, thumping his fist against the desk. "Thomas, you bloody idiot."

Enobaria and Drakula, on Beetee's other side cackle loudly, anticipating the death of District Four's male tribute. It seems that Thomas has horrible luck. He stumbles across the clearing, evidently having run a lot through the dense foliage and comes to an abrupt stop, his eyes wide open. Marlene freezes too as the pair from Two advances on Thomas.

Dee who's been feared by everyone ever since Day One, and Lance who seems to always take her side, pose as an imminent threat as they grin, sadistically at each other before turning to the punier tribute. "What am I going to do with you?" Dee croons, running a thick finger down Thomas' cheek and he shudders, whimpering to himself softly. "Don't kill me, please."

Lance sniggers and hunches over, mocking Thomas' back condition. "Don't kill me! Please! I have family and friends back home," he squeaks out in a high-pitched tone. Topaz and Marlene barely crack a smile as they share a knowing look with each other. Thomas trembles under Dee's touch and Lance's taunts as they gracefully advance towards him slowly.

"Actually," Dee says, "It'd be so much more entertaining if we had Marlene here to finish him off, wouldn't it?" Marlene gulps and pales. "But unfortunately, I want to claim a kill for myself today so I guess you're lucky."

"Please, your boy hasn't even killed anyone yet," I hear Enobaria mutter to Drakula.

Marlene and Topaz take a few steps back and the former takes a spear in hand, readying herself. Her winces tell me that even moving her arm hurts, due to the bruises and scratches from the mountain lion. Nevertheless, Marlene moves into the correct spear-throwing stance and aligns her aim, quickly and carefully. She misses.

Marlene _never _misses.

The spear lands a foot away from Dee and the pair from Two snap their heads back to Marlene and Topaz. There's a grim, tense silence in the arena. Seconds later, the two girls are on the move. Thomas uses this moment's distraction to his advantage and makes a break for it. Lance and Dee pause momentarily. "Which way do we go?"

Lance ends up chasing after the girls and Dee stumbles in the direction Thomas had run off to. It'd be pretty hard to track him down since he's smaller and lighter, leaving fewer tracks in the dirt. With much effort, Marlene drags her left leg and mostly relies on her right leg, and Topaz has to drag her along.

Then, she stops. She fucking _stops _in front of a large tree trunk and leans against it, catching her breath. "Are you _stupid_?!" I exclaim to the screen, and Beetee shoots me an odd look.

"Stop," Marlene breathes out. The heat evidently seems to have taken a huge toll on her for the moment, and she's almost sweating through her shirt. "It's just Lance. I can't even run, _fuck._"

"_Just _Lance? Look, Mar, you said when our alliance split, it'd be the two of us against them. I'm not going to just stop in the middle of nowhere with Lance on our heels. He's goin-"

Topaz is cut off by the spoken boy who appears through the mass of foliage. He starts to speak but Marlene raises a hand up, silently commanding him to shut up. "I have a proposal," she states.

"No, don't you _dare_ listen to her!" Drakula roars at the screen.

The male tribute from Two waves his sword, as if threatening her. "Well, it'd better be quick or I might just impale this sword through your neck."

"Look here, Lance. If you stick with Dee, she'll kill you without any trouble or hesitation. _None _of us can take her down, single-handedly-"

"How do you know I won't?"

"Mate, you got a lower score than I did in training and my score was lower than hers - now don't interrupt. We have to band together and take her down, and _then_ you can do whatever. You have an advantage with Topaz and I more than with Dee." Finally, he looks interested - but then again, he probably has the IQ of about an eleven year old. "We'll be fair. Once Dee's dead, we'll split up and we can't attack each other for twenty fours. After that, we do whatever we want."

Lance grimaces and admits, "She is pretty good. We'll have to stick together then." I breathe out a sigh of relief as he offers a hand out to the girls. "Deal?"

"Deal."

The alliance goes on well without much disruption and it's uneventful for three days. They constantly migrate around, hunting for tributes but come across none other than Thomas.

"Stand down," Marlene commands with such a forceful tone that even Enobaria and Drakula shut up. "He's tagging along with us. He's no threat."

Thomas visibly relaxes and I do too, thankful that Marlene even has the heart to express sympathy at this point of the Games. "He's going to die anyway," Lance grumbles under his breath and Marlene makes a point out of ignoring his snide comment. He doesn't disagree though, and neither does Topaz since Marlene has pretty much been appointed their new leader.

"Let's just settle down here and camp for the night," Topaz suggests. "We're in dire need of a rest."

It's true. Despite the medication and bandages I've sent down to Marlene, her leg's barely even close to healed. The gashes on her arms are still evident and both injuries are still bothering her. She can walk fine with the occasionally limp, but running takes a lot out of her.

A brightly coloured creature captures Marlene's attention and she whips her head around to find this _thing _a few metres away from her. "Hey guys, I'm going to go look for food," she says and heads off towards the direction where the thing's hopping.

"Hey," I nudge Joseph. "Is that a poison dart frog?"

When he nods, I ask, "What's it doing in a desert?"

Joseph shrugs and takes a swig of his water. "I don't know, man. The arena this year is fucked up but I can tell you one thing. Marlene's definitely going to use that frog on the others."

I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. Knowing the Gamemakers, they've probably designed a mutated poison dart frog, which secretes excessive amounts of poison and one touch could even kill a person. But Marlene already knows that or at least, I presume she does. She's smart and we've learnt it at school. Bringing her smallest dagger out, she looks up at the sky. "Yo, Finnick. If you're not busy fucking some random girl, I'd like a nice, hot pot of broth please."

With a roll of my eyes, I don't hesitate to do so, because I'm curious with what she'll do and because she has plenty of sponsor money to spare. So, I think, _Why the hell not? _

The silver parachute drifts down and Marlene grins. "You're the best!" she exclaims, opening the pot.

With the pointy tip of her dagger, she stabs it into the poison dart frog, not hard enough to kill it, and drops it into the pot of broth. "I actually thought she was going to _have _the broth," I say with a scowl. Marlene turns around and launches the dagger through the trees and the clutter of it landing echoes through the speakers. She places the lid back on and grins deviously.

_Shit just got real. _

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**A/N: Phew! For the first time in a while, I actually wrote a chapter without much trouble. There should be about one or two more chapters before the Games finish :) Hope you liked it! **


	37. Chapter 37

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Bigpapi1234, PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, Jamez S and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :) **

**Some of you may have noticed that I've deleted Gloss' story: _Reaching Impossibility_. I'm so sorry to anyone and everyone who favourited/followed/reviewed/enjoyed it but I'm really not feeling it. I'm finding it really hard to write from Gloss' POV, so I'm thinking I'll give it a break for a while and see what happens later. I'm thinking that I'll do Johanna's story before Gloss' but once again, I'm not really sure. **

**As for _The Victors Of Panem_, I've mentioned this before (I think): the updates will be very, very, _very_ irregular. Coming up with names (damn, that's hard) and trying to think of different arenas each year is a little harder than it seems, haha. But I guess, I haven't been very ****organised, since new ideas for _Trident Boy_ keep popping up in my head. **

**_BUT_, I've had a few story ideas in regards to the _Percy Jackson _series, which have been stored in my Word Document of "Story Ideas" and I've been dying to write a PJ fan fiction. To any demigods out there, look out for a new story!  
**

**So, yeah. _Reaching Impossibility_ is deleted. _The Victors Of Panem_ will hopefully have a new update very soon. Potential Percy Jackson fics coming up soon. **

**I apologise for the uber long A/N this chapter.**

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**XXXVII. _Boom_**

At this point in time, the only thought that I can fully process is, _I shouldn't have given Marlene the broth_.

And it's not because of how unappetising it looks - okay, maybe it _does _look disgusting but that's the least of our issues right now. Marlene had said, "In District Four, we eat frogs all the time."

We do. It's rare but on several occasions, frogs are considered to be prized dishes and it's not as disgusting as many people think it is. It tastes a bit like jelly, really. But now, I think Marlene's ruined frogs for the rest of my life - perhaps, even my afterlife.

Foam bubbles around Topaz's and Lance's mouths and they gag. They claw at their throats, staring up at Marlene with looks of utter betrayal and when they speak, only scratchy noises come out. It sounds worse than an extremely sick person coughing up phlegm. Their eyes bulge out of their sockets and they double over, coughing and wrenching in a fruitless attempt to spit the poison back out. Lance's chest heaves as a sound resembling like a perfect blend of a cough and scream resonates from his chest, and Topaz desperately gasps for air.

Thomas is one smart kid.

Well, it's not like he knew what Marlene was up to. The kid had just wrinkled his nose in disgust and said, "I hate frogs. They're disgusting."

That was also sort of stupid, because everyone knew for a fact that you couldn't take things for granted in the arena. You used what you used, and that was it. There was no time to be picky. He sits on the side, watching in absolute horror as the scene before him unfolds.

The two victimised tributes wheeze, gasping for more air and finally, their inhumane sounds stop. Topaz and Lance collapse onto the ground, their limbs twitching, and purple, red and white foam bubbling around their mouths. Two cannons sound consecutively when their movements finally come to an abrupt stop. Within a split second, Drakula's up on his feet, glaring at me as he storms out of the room.

_Five tributes left_.

The two days following Marlene's traitorous actions are uneventful. Marlene still walks with a limp - the injury was evidently more painful that she'd initially let on. Her arm and leg have been bothering the both of us, as I've sent all the medication there is and nothing seems to be working. Her scratches have only healed the slightest and it's only a matter of time before something worse than the mountain lion comes across Marlene and Thomas.

On the eleventh day of the Games, the citizens of Capital become restless and Claudius Templesmith finally announces the feast. "You'll find all your necessities there," he says.

"You're not going," Marlene says to Thomas, when she's on her way to the all too familiar Cornucopia. When he opens his mouth to protest, she continues on, "_No_. You're staying here."

He backs down timidly and asks, "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

It takes her a while to respond. Her forehead creases and purses her lips for a few moments, and when she finally does open her mouth to speak, it's like it almost pains her to even admit such a thing. "You… You remind me of my brother."

"I don't look _anything _like your brother."

"You're both young, skinny and vulnerable. Close enough."

"But…" Thomas frowns in confusion. "That makes no sense."

Cashmere snorts from beside me and rolls her eyes. "That's one dumb kid you've got there, Joseph."

Apparently, Cashmere's been with me for moral support - and because of the fact that she has nothing better to do than to accompany me. She claims that partying alone is too boring, since she usually tags along with Gloss, Althea, Krystal and I. I don't blame her though, because it's true. It's rather suffocating to stand in a room full of people who look like they've appeared from a parallel universe.

"Look, kid," Marlene says. "You're staying here, okay? I'm going to go because I'm pretty sure _you _don't need anything. It's probably some actual, good quality medicine that Odair doesn't have access too." _  
_

He makes an effort to follow the girl, anyway, despite her comments. "If you come with me, _I'll _be the one to slice your head off," she threatens, gripping her sword tighter to add effect. Thomas pales and flinches, mumbling, "I'll stay here."

But he doesn't.

He waits for three minutes before following Marlene in the exact same direction she'd headed off too. I scope out the other tributes. The two from Three and Eleven seem to be fairing okay with a throwing knife and axe respectively, and Dee is well… _Dee_: strong, healthy, bloodthirsty and wields one sword. As dusk rolls by, the wind rushes past, even in the desert and Marlene shivers. Her jacket had been torn to shreds from the mountain lion and her attempts to nurture her leg back to normal, so I send down a warm but flexible jacket, which uses up most of the remaining sponsor money. I've realised that as the Games progress, all items become more expensive.

When she receives the jacket, she breathes out a sigh of relief and gratitude, pulling it on hastily. She prepares herself - sheathing her remaining dagger, slinging the last spear behind her back, raising her sword up and moving into a running start-up stance. She even goes as far as cracking her neck and her fingers, as if saying, _'Game on.' _

Tonight, the Cornucopia's been covered in a large, ice dome, which encases the items inside. There are still two minutes until six and the remaining mentors as well as the others who've gathered to watch the finale, are pondering over _how _exactly the tributes are going to retrieve their goods.

A hushed silence falls upon us as we watch the ice shatter under nothing but air. Shards of ice clatter against the tundra and desert, signalling the beginning of the end and all the remaining mentors are quite literally, on the edge of their seats.

The boy from Three is the first one up and running. As he sprints across to the Cornucopia, a sadistic smirk slowly forms on Marlene's expression as she runs after him and slips one knuckle-duster on, onto her right hand. Beetee, who's on Cashmere's other side, shakes his head and sighs.

If I'm being honest, I'd rather her ditch the goddamned knuckle-duster. Her sword is more valuable at a time like this, and with the addition of the other weapon, it's too clunky and bothersome.

Despite the bothering injury Marlene has, she sprints faster than the kid and tackles him down, footy style before pulling a Dee move and smashes her fist against his head. Blood splatters onto the ice as she slams the boy onto the ice several times until his cannon sounds.

Thomas streaks across the desert and when Marlene turns around to scream at him, she's facing the girl from Eleven who waves an axe around. She manages to move out of the way in time to avoid any damage to herself. Strands of her jet black fly everywhere, as the axe slices through the unruly mess of Marlene's hair and when the girl launches herself towards Marlene again, my tribute manages to grab a hold of her wrist, twisting it painfully until the weapon falls out of her hand. Seeder's girl looks up in fright as Marlene stabs her sword into the ice. "Don't kill me!" she wails, tears threatening to spill.

A small smile tugs on Marlene's lips and she watches the girl in amusement. "I don't know; I kind of wanted to play around with you for a bit."

"Actually, I probably will," she adds, quickly and takes a quick scan of the arena. "Especially since my main threat isn't here yet. So, why not mess around with the puny filth?"

_You stupid idiot_, I think.

Sure, Dee still hasn't reached the clearing that opens up to the Cornucopia but it'll only be a matter of time. She's probably hiding behind a bush, watching all the events and saving up her energy for the end. Even the mere thought of that makes my blood run cold and I shudder slightly.

Marlene straddles the girl in a position much like she'd done with Orion, pinning her to the ground so effectively that she can barely squirm. She laughs airily, bringing her dagger out, and tosses it up into the air before catching it by the blade. "Let's get started, shall we?" I can almost _picture _the Capital citizens squealing delightfully as Marlene slices open the girl's cheek, running the sharp blade across her jaw and down her neck. She presses the tip against the girl's jugular vein and the girl releases a loud whimper.

Cashmere's left me by now and she's over with Seeder, comforting the elder woman as she watches her tribute suffer from the hands of my own. Marlene's hand drags the dagger down the girl's chest and draws - or rather, _carves_ \- a funny shape on her stomach. "You should be lucky that I haven't left you for Dee to deal with," Marlene murmurs as she continues drawing random lines on the girl's body. As disturbing as it is, I suppose this _is _Marlene's sort of personality - threatening, fierce and vicious, as opposed to how she's been around Thomas. I shouldn't be so shocked or disgusted.

"Jus-Just kill me already," she gasps. "_Please_."

As Marlene smirks, a loud pair of thundering footsteps sound, quickly followed by a thud and a cannon. The screen beside mine turns black and Joseph leans back with a sigh. Marlene's smirk fades away and her facial features hardens as she sinks the dagger into the girl's body, unleashing an ear-piercing shriek. With one last painful, crunching punch to the face, the girl's cannon booms and Marlene tosses the knuckle-duster away, grabbing a hold of her sword.

Barely a moment later, Dee's grabbed the front of her shirt, lifting her about half a foot off the ground. Marlene's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and her eyes flitter to the right where Thomas lies with a spear through his neck. "Thomas, you idiot," Marlene groans.

"You're going to die," Dee says quietly, yet ever so threateningly.

And then, Marlene _explodes_. "You fucking _bitch!_" she screeches. "I'm going to kill you! You know, I was actually hoping to save Topaz for the end, because _Althea Yule_, female tribute from District One fucking mutilated my brother, but I thought, 'She's too easy'. I'll save _you _for last."

She yells a string of profanities, kicking and punching manically at Dee and when she's finally dropped to the ground, her fists clench around the handle of her sword, her knuckles turning white. She doesn't hesitate to raise her sword up, advancing towards the larger girl.

"Chick fight!" Haymitch, being the drunken bastard he usually is, cheers. Cashmere shoots a dirty look at the guy - neither of us are particularly fond of him - and squeezes my shoulder, comfortingly. She doesn't tell me that Marlene will make it because that could be a lie, but I'm grateful for that because I don't need any false hope, especially at this point in time.

Marlene's at a huge disadvantage with her injuries and her smaller frame, but even with these deterrents, she's as agile as she usually is, though she often grimaces with each step she takes. Her parries and strikes are weak and Dee catches on quick. The larger girl fakes right, before ducking to swipe at her opponent's left calf. Marlene releases a scream, both pained and angered, and falters momentarily but persists on.

The Mentor's Room is quiet, with only the sounds of clashing blades and laboured breathing from the girls on the main screen. Their spar lasts for a while - seventeen minutes - before Dee has Marlene unarmed, and pinned against the side wall of the Cornucopia with a sword to her throat. Sighing in defeat, my eyes stay glued to the screen as Marlene momentarily glances at the weapon held to her neck and takes a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes close and when they open again, I see _fear__,_ something I've never seen before, as well as a fiery determination that keeps me on my feet, hoping that she'll get up and storm to victory.

Because if she doesn't, I _swear _I'll bring her back to life and kill her myself.

"Any last words?" Dee sneers.

Marlene sneaks her hand into the palm grip of her second brass knuckles, ducking underneath Dee's arms and punching her square in the face. Dee roars in rage. With one hand, she clutches at the torn skin and bruised eye, and with the other, she waves her sword around and slices across Marlene's stomach a few times - thankfully, not very deep.

Dee claws at her eye, which is a bloody mess with red liquid dripping down her split cheekbone and smashed nose. Her eye doesn't even _resemble _an eye anymore. Long gone are the brown eyes; it looks as if that portion of her face was a pig's insides being cut out. Several mentors wince with unease at the ungodly sight.

Just as Marlene rears her arm back another time, Dee once again grabs a hold of the front of her shirt but this time, she tosses Marlene a few metres ahead of her. She lands rather awkwardly on her left side, crushing her left arm and leg - the side that's been inflicted with the most wounds - and her head smacks against the thick trunk of a tree.

Marlene's eyes flutter shut.

"_Fuck_," I curse. "No, no, no. Come on, Marlene."

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing _happens. "Get _up_."

The cannon booms and my screen fades into an empty pit of black.

And I stare at it for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours - at least, it seems like it. I'm frozen on the spot. Dee's and Enobaria's whoops of victory only send adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I just want to _kill _them. I want my trident and I want to do what Marlene did to the girl from Eleven. A hand squeezes my shoulder and whispers something I can't make out into my ear, but I just stare.

A ringing sounds echoes in my ears, constantly pounding and pounding, until I feel the urge to smack my head against the wall repeatedly. Shivers wrack my body. _But it's not cold_, I think. Marlene Summers can't be dead, can she? The girl who I'd grown up with - kind of, the girl who attended the same classes at me in school, the girl who constantly made empty threats, the girl who'd grown a soft side over the past few weeks is dead.

Maybe it's the serum messing with my mind or maybe it's because of the lack of sleep, but it seems surreal. She'd managed to beat everyone in training, even several mock Hunger Games, which were created to essentially test the survival of the fittest, and everyone was _so sure _that Marlene would come home. But now she's just… _dead. _

"Come on, Finnick," Cashmere says. "It's over now."

_It's over now_, I think to myself. _It's over._

_It's fucking over. _

I close my eyes for a few moments, attempting to collect myself back together, to make sure I'm at least, the slightest bit decent to face the other mentors. Suddenly, Cashmere gasps. "_No way." _

God answers me for the first time. When I open my eyes, the screen's alive again and Marlene's rolling onto her back with an agonised moan.

_She's alive._

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**A/N: I don't actually know what happens when you eat a poison dart frog but I searched everywhere on the internet and found nothing, so I made it up. I hope you like the cliffy I left you with ;) **

**PS. Please don't try and experiment with poison dart frogs to see what results from consuming them. **


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113, QuinnDeRavensborough and Joe for reviewing! :) **

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**XXXVIII. Victory **

"Whoa, Odair!" Blight exclaims. "Your chick's Jesus reincarnated."

"Not possible," Beetee mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

"_No!" _Enobaria screeches at me. "You're a cheater, Odair!"

I sit there, staring at my screen, wondering just _how _my screen dissolved into an empty void and came back to life. Surely, that isn't possible, is it?

"She'll pull through," Cashmere whispers in my ear. "I mean, look at Dee."

The female tribute from Two is still clawing at her torn eye, screaming in what seems to be more rage than agony. Her vocals drown out the feeble moan from Marlene, who clutches her arm with a grimace. She stares at the camera, unblinkingly and void of emotion as she manages to pull herself up into a sitting position.

"You're supposed to be _dead!_" Dee exclaims, pointing a finger in Marlene's direction. "Your cannon went off. _I'm _the Victor. You fucking _died!"_

Marlene laughs, bitterly and takes the chance to grab her spear while Dee makes an attempt to stop the blood flow from her inflicted wound. "Looks like I'm hard to kill, eh?"

"You should be dead," she snarls.

"Maybe I can just withstand more pain than others."

I don't doubt it for a second. Perhaps, not physical pain but even before the Games, she's been one of the mentally and emotionally strongest people I've known. The death of her younger brother couldn't have been great, with the horrid mutilation Althea Yule had done. Then, add her mother's death and her father's drinking habits, which often resulted in beatings. Marlene Summers is no ordinary girl.

Slowly but surely, Marlene manages to haul herself back up onto her feet with one hand against the tree trunk for balance. Her body weight mostly rests on her right leg and with her right arm, she rears back and launches the spear in hand at Dee. Her aim's off - kind of.

She'd evidently been aiming for Dee's abdomen but with the heavy panting and bruised arms, Marlene's spear embeds itself in Dee's shin. The girl, however, barely seems to falter and manages to lunge the few steps to Marlene, whose eyes widen instantly. She brings out her dagger - the one she'd used with the tribute from Eleven - and makes an attempt to slash at Dee out of self defence, after realising that she can't back away.

"Come _on, _Marlene," I mutter, gripping onto the table tightly.

"Should I make you beg and suffer by my hand?" Dee taunts, raising her own sword up and sinking the blade into Marlene's left thigh, only inches above from the wound she'd received from the mountain lion. Marlene grits her teeth and winces softly, but doesn't speak for a while as she stares up at Dee, indifferently. She refuses to acknowledge the pain, nor does the allow Dee to feel the satisfaction of her actions.

"You can chop me up into pieces and I won't even scream."

Clearly, her response doesn't please Dee, as the girl releases yet another scream of aggravation and lifts Marlene up by the front of her shirt once again. Everything seems to proceed in a huge blur as Marlene uses the last ounce of energy to stab her dagger into Dee's chest roughly, twisting her wrist around before pulling it out once again, only to shove it back into her body, underneath her ribcage. Precisely at that moment, the female tribute from Two splutters blood out but not before swinging her arm back and releasing Marlene's shirt, sending her flying several metres across the arena.

She lands on the ice with a loud _thwack_ sound, like a rag doll and stays there, immobile. Meanwhile, Dee's sunk down to her knees, blood staining her lips as she attempts to fruitlessly stop the blood flow from her eye, chest and stomach. Marlene, on the other hand, doesn't move. Her chest heaves up and down unevenly with each breath she takes, but she makes no attempt to fight back. She simply lays on the ice, blinking every so often as she stares up at the sky, muttering incoherent words to herself. Her skin, once so tan and sun-kissed, is now pale, almost rivalling to the ice she lies on.

Neither of them have the strength to kill the other anymore. Marlene probably has several broken or fractured bones in her body from the impact of the ice, and her left leg serves as no positive factor to her potential victory. Dee's frantic actions only cause more blood to leak out and I'm assuming Marlene knows this already, considering how calm and unmoving she is. These last few moments of the Games have become the ultimate moments of survival. Rather than battling each other to the death by their own hands, they're battling each other to victory with what little resistance they have to pain.

Placing my headphones on, I turn up the volume and only just manage to hear what she's saying. "Ethan," she breathes out with a heavy sigh, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maxwell, Mum, Finnick."

"Ethan, Maxwell, Mum, Finnick, _Ethan__…_"

Who Ethan is, I have no idea but I hope that whoever the guy is, he's enough of a connection to home for Marlene to stay strong for at least the next few minutes.

Enobaria frantically sends Dee a medical kit but her tribute end up stumbling over it instead, and faceplants onto the ice. At that exact moment, Marlene's eyes flutter shut and the cannon sounds.

Sighing in defeat, I place my headphones back down and lean back in my seat. "I guess I'm done," I say, rubbing my temples gently.

Cashmere sends me a funny look and stares at me like I've gone crazy. "What's wrong with you, Finnick? She won."

"_Say what? _But that cannon- wait- _huh_?"

Claudius Templesmith's voice finally booms through the speakers of the Mentor's Room. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present you the victor of the 68th Hunger Games: Marlene Summers of District Four."

My jaw feels slack as my mind begins to process the fact that my screen is still _alive_. "Holy shit," I say. "Oh my God, we did it."

"I told you she'd pull through," Cashmere replies with a smug smile, before slapping the back of my head. "Now if you want to see her, you should hurry to the hospital next door. That's where the tributes go once they're wheeled off the hovercraft."

"Gotcha."

When I arrive at the hospital, it takes an agonising fifteen minutes until several medics wheel Marlene in on a gurney. I scramble up to follow after them as they enter a large room but Doctor Reys - as his name tag says - steps in front of me. "Mr Odair, you can't go in there."

"Why not?" I reply, resisting the urge to push past him. "I'm her mentor and _friend_."

"From what we've taken note of in the hovercraft, Miss Summers is in an unstable condition and needs to be taken into intensive care. If you want to stay, you'll at least have to sit out here. That's the best I can offer," he says, gesturing to the leather seats across the hall. No matter how good-quality and tempting they look, I cross my arms and scowl at the puny doctor. "What's wrong with her?"

"Well, first thing's first: the biggest concern as of right now is her back. When Dee Elogoria threw her against the ice, this resulted in a compressed fracture of her lower vertebrae and her spinal cord's been broken or collapsed in seven places. Addit-"

"You can get that fixed though, right?" I interrupt. "I mean, I have no idea what you just said but you _can _fix it, right?"

"Of course, Mr Odair," he replies, raising his hand up to his mouth, and stares at me as if I'd just offended him. "Here in the Capital, we can get _anything _fixed. We're not stupid, Mr Odair. It's a complicated process, of course. We'll have to put her in an induced coma to complete the task and when we are done, she can't lift anything remotely heavy, nor can she apply too much pressure on anything. She'll have to spend at least four or so months recovering, assuming she makes quick process."

"Any other side effects?"

"_No, _Mr Odair. We can get everything fixed."

"What else is there?"

"Miss Summers also has a concussion from hitting her head and we're already in the process of fixing that." He gestures towards the room where the doctors are fretting over Marlene's body. "It'll be a bit harder than usual because she passed out but it's doable. She's suffering from blood loss and her leg's mangled in all sorts of places, with ligament tears and damage. We'll have to elevate her leg up and fix it up briefly before proceeding to her back. When she's finally conscious, we'll work on the leg."

"Are you sure you can fix it?" I ask, dubiously. In District Four, such recovery is absolutely impossible. It seems… _fake - _too good to be true.

"We even have the ability to bring tributes back from the dead. If we can't do this, we're nut jobs." Almost instantly, Doctor Reys gasps and lifts his hand up to his mouth, shaking his head. "Don't tell anyone I told you that. No one's supposed to know."

For a second, I almost find myself saying 'yes' but I end up shrugging it off when I realise that Snow has audio recorders and faithful spies located everywhere. There's no point in protecting this stranger, doctor or not. There are other surgeons and nurses available.

"Please, Mr Odair!" he continues. "President Snow would have my head if anyone else knew."

"I won't," I say. "Unless you do something really out of line."

I spend the next eleven days, waiting in front of Marlene's room, occasionally joined by Joseph, Krystal and Cashmere. I suppose they're good company but in a place as dull and dismal as a hospital, everything seems to buzz nervously. Each day, I wake up hoping that Marlene's woken up but not once has that occurred.

I'm not the only one who's impatient though. The entire Capital is. They want to see their Victor this year. They want to celebrate and to party, and to worship Marlene Summers of District Four, Victor of the 68th Annual Hunger Games. All they care about is seeing her in good condition, party and drink. That's literally it, and it's sick.

When I wake up on the twelfth day, I find a female Avox staring at me with an intense gaze. When she realises I'm awake, she passes a note to me.

_Snow's office_, it reads.

Holding back a sigh, I offer the woman a courteous nod before heading back to Level Four of the Training Building. I shower, brush my teeth, change into a new set of clothes and eat before hailing one of my chauffeurs.

What could Snow _possibly _want from me at a time like this?

After paying my fees to the driver, I navigate my way through the familiar labyrinth of Snow's mansion and when I finally stop in from of his office door, I pause for a moment. Looking into the mirror across the hallway, I make sure my hair looks presentable enough and roll the sleeves of my dress shirt up to my elbows. Taking a deep breath, I twist the doorknob and enter his room.

"Ah, Mr Odair," Snow greets with a devious grin. "I was beginning to wonder why you weren't showing up. Take a seat, please."

Obliging his request, I recline back in my seat and ask, "Is there a particular reason why you called me here, sir?"

This time, he cuts to the chase. "Yes, yes. I'm assuming you're aware of the… _incident _with your tribute, Miss Summers, when the cannon sounded to signal her death."

"It was most likely a malfunction," I reply, quickly.

President Snow takes a long sip of his tea and leans forward towards me. "That's the thing, Mr Odair. These trackers are designed to not malfunction. Don't you think it's a little absurd for Miss Summers to stay alive?"

"What are you saying?"

He chuckles and stares at me with those serpent eyes of his. "I'm sure you already know what I'm saying.

_I do_. I really do, but for once, I'd like for him to say it out loud.

"No, I don't."

Snow sighs, and I'm almost certain that it's out of irritation. He clicks a button on his TV remote and his screen splutters to life as the replay of Dee tossing Marlene the first time appears on screen. "Miss Summers managed to find a loophole. As you can see, she actually lands on her back. When she's finally landed, she moved onto her left side and braced herself against the trunk of the tree. The left arm is where trackers are injected into the tributes. Miss Summers managed to apply enough force to jam the tracker, which signalled the cannon. Now, I can't let this go unpunished, Mr Odair, now can I?"

_Figures. _

Pushing down the urge to lunge forward and gouge his eyes out with my bare hands, I nod affirmatively. "Of course."

He leans back with a sinister smile tugging at his blood red lips. "Alright, then. You're dismissed."

For the entire trip back, my chauffeur attempts to strike up a conversation. I nod along every so often and hum to show him I'm listening but really, I can't stop thinking about Marlene. If Snow kills of someone she's close to, she'll be absolutely crushed. With the lack of family she has and the Games, it surely can't be good, even for someone as strong and resilient as her. It's appalling to think that Snow would come up with the theory that Marlene would jam the tracker. Was she even _aware _of that?

Several doctors bustle around Marlene's hospital room, ushering each other inside. Shoving past a few nurses in my way, I grab a hold of Doctor Rey before he enters the room. "Hey, what's going on?" I ask, glancing through the window. "She's not awake yet."

"President Snow requested for a few… _enhancements,"_ he explains. "He thinks it'll be convenient and rather satisfying for the men."

_Un-fucking-believable_, I think to myself, crossing my arms. "_Enhancements?_" I repeat. "Care to elaborate?"

"Breast implants - President Snow believes that she'd make good money and use to the Capital and the one problem is that she needs to be more developed in that particular area than she is now, an-"

"You can't do that!" I shout, shoving him against the wall. "You at least, need her consent and even then, she'd never allow it."

Doctor Reys squirms uncomfortably and grimaces. "It's not her decision, Mr Odair. It's Snow's order."

"Yeah? You can tell him to suck my d-"

"Mr Odair!" His cheeks turn a bright shade of red. "You can't sa-"

"Look, if you don't make any _'enhancements'_, I won't tell President Snow about what _you _told me two weeks ago," I compromise, knowing that he wouldn't be able to refuse. His hands are tied.

He purses his lips and his decision only takes two seconds. Releasing a sigh, he relents, "Fine."

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**A/N: Note that I'm writing this chapter, assuming that the Capital can in fact do anything they choose to do. If anyone were to have injuries as bad as Marlene, recovery _is _possible - it's just extremely tedious, and it takes months and months to recover. Even then, there'd still be a few issues. **


	39. Chapter 39

**Thank you Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113, Guest, QuinnDeRavensborough, Guest and Bigpapi1234 for reviewing! :) **

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**XXXIX. Phone Call **

"How are you?"

Marlene gulps and looks away from me, sighing. She'd woken up on the fifteenth day after the Games and for the three days she'd spent in hospital, conscious, she'd undergone surgery for her leg and had constant checkups. She'd refused to utter a single word to anyone. Unfortunately, I hadn't managed to convince Doctor Reys with the issue we'd raised up a few days ago. While the doctors did give Marlene plastic surgery, it wasn't too noticeable and was nowhere near as prominent as they'd previously hoped for.

The day she'd woken up was the day she had to attend the recaps of her Games. Thankfully, she didn't have to speak, aside from the typical, "Nice to see you, Caesar" and "I'm good, how about you?"

She played the same character as she did for her first interview with her Victor's interview earlier tonight, without much guidance from myself and Joseph. Those words were quite literally the only words I'd heard her utter since the Games.

We sit on the couch in the living room, and when I look at her, I finally _notice _her and who she's grown to become. She's been a more reserved character, and she seems to keep to herself more so than previously, and it _scares _me. What happened to the outgoing Marlene? Many victors come out broken, but just _how _broken is Marlene?

She picks at the golden necklace - I'm surprised it hasn't shattered from the events in the arena. "I can't believe I did that," she says, her voice cracking. Whether it's from her lack of communication or her bottled up emotions, I'm not entirely sure, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out how guilty she feels. "I-I didn't mean to, Finnick."

"You didn't mean to do what, Marlene?"

"The girl," she replies. "From Eleven, I mean. When I woke up, I didn't remember anything that happened after I left Thomas, and then… and then, the replays rolled on screen and I just..." Marlene squeezes her eyes shut, as if she's in excruciating pain and grits her teeth. "I just _remembered._ Everything came rushing back, I also kind of can't remember what I did either - I can't remember _why_; it's just a blur. I can't believe I did that," she repeats, shaking her head.

"It was your bloodlust," I say, squeezing her shoulder softly. "Or you were just so driven by your vengeance."

"He must be so disappointed in me," she speaks, her tone barely above a whisper and sighs, wistfully. "He hates me now."

Turning the TV off, I turn to her. "Why would Maxwell hate you? He'd be proud of you."

"I'm not talking about Maxwell."

"Ethan?" I guess, watching as she plays with the ring on her necklace - a ring, which I've never noticed before.

She nods and says, "We're supposed to get married next year but I wouldn't be surprised if he calls it off. I'm sick."

"No, you're not," I argue, shaking my head. "You're not sick, and if he calls the wedding off, I don't care if he's a stranger or not, I'll be there to kick his arse."

Marlene finally manages to crack a smile, even if it is the smallest I've seen on someone. After a moment's hesitation, she leans in to hug me, surprisingly me greatly. "Thank you so much, Finnick," she says. "Just… _thank you_."

"You're welcome," I reply, feeling much like an older brother, despite how she's several months older than me. Pulling away from her after a few moments, I say, "That goes back to my first question: How are you?"

"Physically?"

"Both."

"Fine," she says. "I mean, I'd prefer being able to walk properly without pain, but I'll have to make progress."

"It's funny." Marlene sends me a funny look and I continue on, correcting myself. "Sorry, I'm not talking about you. I was just thinking that if the Capital can treat your condition in no time and if they can bring people back to life, then why didn't they treat Chaff's arm? They just amputated it off, right?"

Marlene's jaw drops and she stares at me bug-eyed. "They can bring people back to life?" she repeats, and only now do I realise what I've said. _Oops, _I think. Well, the doctor didn't keep his part of the deal, so I won't either.

"Ah, crap," I curse. "Don't tell anyone I told you that. I'm not even supposed to know."

She nods, curtly, probably wondering if the Capital nurses and surgeons had ever thought about bringing tributes back to life - or a certain tribute, rather. I know this because I've been contemplating this for the past few days. Maybe the fallen tributes' bodies were hidden in some storage room and were used as lab rats.

"Chaff lost his arm during the Games - the final bloodbath," Marlene says. "I remember watching replays. Some kid used an axe and managed to tear a lot of ligaments or something. When the nurses asked him about his arm, he refused to accept the fake arm they offered."

"How do you know this?"

"I don't know where you've been the past few years, Odair, but I'm pretty sneaky when I want to be."

The phone rings and as walk across the room to retrieve it, I grin at Marlene. "I know."

"Finn, are you okay?" The unmistakable voice of Annie Cresta comes through the phone's speakers, sending my heart racing and my mind into an overdrive.

I find myself grinning goofily and leaning against the wall. "Annie," I reply, ignoring Marlene's suggestive smirk. "What's up?"

"When are you coming home?"

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"You're okay though, right?" Her voice cracks halfway through the question and a sob erupts from the other side of the line. She sounds a little nasally, like she usually does when the spring allergies have caught up with her. _She's crying. _

"Hey, I'm fine. Annie, what's wrong?"

"I… Rhea- she…" she manages to stutter, and I hear Mags offering her sympathetic and comforting condolences as she drags a sobbing Annie away from the phone.

"Finnick." Doctor Audrye takes over the phone and speaks over the commotion in the background. Her usually soothing voice is now tense. "There's been an incident."

My fist subconsciously clenches around the phone tighter and all sorts of ideas whirl around in my mind. Evidently, this incident is nothing good and has inflicted pain - especially for Annie, and I can only imagine that Rhea's just as bad. I mentally prepare myself for the worst as I utter out the next question through gritted teeth. "What happened?"

She's silent for a while - seconds or minutes, I'm not sure. I can feel the rapid beat of my heart growing faster and faster, as my palms grow sweaty from the imminent announcement. _What could Snow have done? _Maybe there was a public flogging in the centre of District Four - it's not common but it's not rare either. Public floggings are often reserved for traitors in our Districts, much like the Avoxes in the Capital. There are two rules in our District, which concern flogging - credits go to the Peacekeepers. Every single person in District Four must gather around to watch the flogging - not matter how old or young, and if anyone utters a single sound, they're brought up to be whipped as well.

The last time I'd witnessed a public flogging, I was with Annie, Oliver and his younger sister. Rhea had gone out with several other friends. That day, seven people were called up and chained to metal bars. They were whipped across their bodies, faces, arms and legs before they were untied. At that point, three were dead and the other four were in serious conditions. While Oliver had covered his younger sister's eyes, Annie was too stubborn to be called a coward of sorts since a few of her classmates were around and she was too prideful. But the moment the crowd had dispersed and we went back home, she'd started crying and said, "They didn't deserve that."

My one and only theory or assumption is that Snow had ordered his minion Peacekeepers to flog either Rhea or Marlene's father or Marlene's fiancé. Whichever it was, I honestly hope that it's Marlene's father who's the victim. I'd seen the man around, drunken like Haymitch Abernathy but much more violent and demanding. It's a surprise that Marlene even had enough money to pay for her training, though that's not so much of an issue anymore.

There was this one day where I'd seen Marlene being dragged out of the Training Centre in District Four by her father, who was pinching her ear. "Ow, let _go _of me!" she'd yelled, swatting his hand away. The father and daughter duo had had a full-blown debate where he'd argue that she should've been saving money to purchase alcohol for him rather than wasting it on training.

Ever since then, I'd never really been a big fan of his.

Ethan, on the other hand, I didn't care so much as an individual but I did care for Marlene. And of course, if my little sister was involved, any man who even bothered to touch her was going to die.

"Rhea's dead," Audrye says slowly, as if she's contemplating whether she's worded the two words correctly.

With a shaky breath, I stumble back and drop the phone like it's been covered with poison - _Snow's _poison. As much as I wish it isn't true, I don't need to think twice to believe Audrye. I should've anticipated this.

Marlene bends down and brings the phone up to my ear, looking at me cautiously. "Hello?" she speaks into the phone. "Yeah, sure."

She clicks the speaker button and places it on the desk in front of us. "Tell me you're kidding," I say, collapsing back onto the couch and pulling at my hair. "Audrye, tell me you're lying. Tell me this is a dream, _please_. _Please _tell me this isn't real."

"You know I can't, Finnick."

Launching the phone across the room, I watch as it shatters against the wall opposite me and a static sound echoes around. My mind seems to be in the midst of a turbulent storm of emotions: anger, anguish, guilt, bitterness and hatred, and the numbness takes over, as I flip tables and couches, and throwing punches at the wall, wishing that my trident was embedded in Snow's chest a long time ago.

In that moment, I make a promise to myself that no matter how long or hard it's going to take to bring Snow down, I'll do so, even if it means dragging in my fellow mentors and friends into the situation. I'll do it for Maya, for mum, for dad, for Maxwell and for Rhea.

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**A/N: Wow, this is one really crap chapter - sorry for that. My mind's on autopilot right now, and I can't seem to make this any better than it is now. It'll get better next chapter. **


	40. Chapter 40

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, PainAndPanicReportingForDuty, Guest and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :) **

**The last two/three chapters may have confused you - sorry if I didn't write it out clearly! Marlene was _not _brought back to life by the Capital. She had severe injuries in which the Capital surgeons treated exceptionally by using their very funky technology. As for why her cannon rang… coming right up :) **

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**XL. Photographs **

"It's my fault, isn't it?" Marlene asks, shooting me a glance. "Your sister, I mean."

"Not really," I mumble under my breath, staring out the window as the train slowly inches to a stop in front of District Four. It's not just home anymore - it's where my entire family's died and each death had been somewhat related to the Hunger Games. The one guilty person is me.

"It is," she insists. "I'm not stupid, Odair. Snow talked to me. I _knew _that if I applied enough force against the tracker, it would jam and the cannon would go off. I _knew _there would be consequences, but I didn't anyway. It's my fault, and I'm sorry."

"You did it to survive."

"Yeah, at the cost of your sister."

I flinch at her persistent tone and look away, sighing as I push past the Capital paparazzi who have once again, managed to arrive earlier than us. "Get outta my face, losers," I hear Marlene say from behind me, undoubtedly shoving people off their feet.

Marlene or Annie?

I'm Marlene's mentor - I'm _supposed _to be the one to introduce and welcome her into the Victor's Village of District Four. I'm supposed to help her settle in and guide her training career. Would it look bad if I ditched Marlene for my family?

Upon noticing my mental conflict, Joseph clamps a hand down onto my shoulder. "I've got it from here. Go."

For the first time, I don't hesitate. The main door opens just as I push against it with my palm, and I stumble inside. "Audrye!" I exclaim when she shushes me. "Is she okay?"

Mags sits on the couch in our living room, knitting away with Annie laid down on the other couch. She has two blankets wrapped around her and tucked under her chin. "She's fine," Audrye replies. "The poor girl finally fell asleep - well, she cried herself to sleep but it's better than no sleep."

Pressing my lips together, I ask the one question that's been on my mind ever since last night. "What _happened_?"

I take a seat beside Annie and watch as Audrye shifts Cordelia from her left hip to the right. Mags inhales loudly and sends me a small sympathetic smile, her light green eyes soft and caring. Audrye passes a sheet of paper to me. It's a shade of white that's so bright, yet pale that it makes me squint. The still intact sheet is tainted with red script. It seems metaphorical - the red representing blood and strife. Releasing a shaky breath, my heart thuds as I read the first line.

_Finnick; _

_I know, I know. You're probably thinking: _But suicide isn't the answer! _Well, too bad. It's the answer for me. _

_I know this must be hard for you, Annie and Mags. Tell Mags that I'm sorry; I've already left a letter for Annie. I know you'll be blaming yourself but please, don't - it's not your fault. _

_Do you remember when we used to sit by the beach next to our old home? When we laughed over anything and everything? What happened to those days? And then, we'd race each other to the island off shore and you'd always beat me, laughing in my face after. But, what happened? __What happened to my brother? You're not the Finnick I grew up with anymore and despite how hard you try to get back up onto your feet and to be that person, it's never the same. You were so teasing, immature and _fun _back then. You still are sometimes, but you've grown more mature, more selfish and more reserved - unless you're in the Capital. I despise seeing you on TV when you're not home, holding onto women - _strangers _\- __and it hurts to know that you prefer their company over mine. _

_But after everything that's happened, brother mine, I still love you. You've always been my inspiration and my rock, and I hope you live your life to the fullest. _

_My suicide, however, doesn't concern all of this. This is the best way. This is the best way to avoid getting hurt, and to solve everyone's problems. No one can hurt me this way - I won't be named 'Finnick Odair's loser sister' anymore. I'm a bit of mess, aren't I? But I believe, that you and I are both messes. No one has a brother-sister relationship like ours; we tease, we laugh, we care and we create memories that last forever and a day. We don't need to work hard to support each other, we don't need rely on each other for everything single little thing in life, and we certainly don't need anyone to rip our bond away. _

_I'm not scared. I consider myself lucky to escape such a twisted environment, which seems to resemble a dystopian novel. _

_I believe in a heaven up above and if by any miracle that I make it there, I'll see you there. _

_Love,  
Rhea_

_PS, Annie likes you too _

Scrunching the note up into a paper ball, I glare at the carpet and stand up. "This isn't her handwriting," I say, making my way out of the house. "It's definitely not her." As unusual as it is for a girl, Rhea's handwriting isn't neat, immaculate and straight. Her writing's sloppy, hard to read and cursive - and she _hates _the colour red. She doesn't believe in God or heaven anymore, and she most definitely, doesn't believe in miracles.

Ignoring Audrye's protests to come back, I slam the door shut behind me. My mind tells me to go back into the house, to be beside Annie when she makes and to be her moral support. My legs, however, seem to have a mind of their own and betray me, and I find myself running down the familiar footpaths that wind towards the eastern region of the district - even after all these years, I know the path like it's the back of my hand. The putrid smell of raw fish reaches my nostrils and the view of a more secluded beach appears in my vision.

I come to a stop in front of two small, but cozy houses, which have been abandoned - my old home and Annie's old home. There've been several people who have asked us if we were ever planning on selling them and every time, we've replied with a no. Fumbling for the key under the doormat, I unlock the door and step into the house I'd deserted three years ago - the house where I left all my treasured childhood memories, the place where I'd grown up.

As I sweep my hand across the top of our kitchen table, my fingers pick up the dust particles which have gathered over years of isolation. This table was where our parents taught us games. A stack of dusty cards lie messily on the far side of the table, beside three intact, lavender candles and a vase of fake flowers. A torn but useable chandelier hangs on the ceiling above, its dim light illuminating the room. The living room's still the same and as I pass by our parents' old bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before shaking my head and walking past it. From when we were small, we'd been taught at school that it's disrespectful to enter anyone's bedroom but your own. No matter how important or desperate the situation was, we'd have to knock on the door and wait patiently. If I were to be brutally honest, I'd stopped that ever since my own Hunger Games but for my parents' sake, I leave the door ajar without a peek.

I enter the bedroom I'd once shared with Rhea. Everything's still untouched. Her bedsheets are tidy, mine are sprawled all over the place. A drawer of our cupboard still sticks out awkwardly. The photo frames still hang above our beds, and the games we used to play still lay on the ground, unmoving, as do a few of our childhood books. There's a musty smell in the room, after years of no fresh air coming in from our closed window, but it still smells like home.

A triangular prism with a pictures frame on each surface, barely half the size of my palm, sits on Rhea's side of the small table between our beds, and I pick up, holding it between my thumb and index finger. The metal frame's rusted now, brown replacing the original silver colour, and the edges are jagged. I blow the dust that's gathered on the pictures away, and examine each picture, smiling as I do so. The first picture is a family photograph. It had used up quite a bit of money, but it was worth it. I was thirteen and Rhea was eleven, and the two of us stood in front of our parents, with Father's arms wrapped around Rhea and Mother's wrapped around me. I remembered whining in embarrassment: "_Mum!_" I'd protested. "I'm thirteen, not a kid anymore!" But, I'd smiled anyway.

The picture was taken in the middle of one of the hottest summers in District Four. My freckles were more prominent at the time and my skin was so tan that it almost seemed to be orange if I were to compare myself to my paler peers. Rhea's hair was bronze, just like mine, but she'd also had a few streaks of blonde hair from being in the sun too much. Our parents looked young - sure, there were a few wrinkles here and there, but their eyes didn't hold the worry and concern that only appeared after I'd come back from my Games with the heavy burden of Maya's death on my shoulders. And _then_, the grey hairs appeared, as well as more unnecessary wrinkles and concern for their son, who'd returned as a stranger.

The second picture is of Rhea and Annie when they were ever younger - perhaps, around ten. They're at the beach, giggling to each other and pointing out into the ocean at a boy swimming. The same eyes, the same hair and the same smiles but now, Annie's eyes, hair and smile are broken and pained. _How did I lose so much and so quickly? _

The final picture is one that I'm familiar with - of both myself and Rhea together. It was taken only a day before the day of my reaping, and it had been Rhea's last day of primary school. We'd celebrated over a family dinner with the Cresta's and she'd been over the moon because 'school's the biggest bore of my life'. The next day, she'd ended up bawling her eyes out over me.

I'd failed to keep her safe. The reasoning of her death may not be for anything I'd done, but I'd still _failed__._ I'd failed Maya, Mother, Father and Rhea, and next, it's probably going to Annie - and I don't doubt it for a second, because of how I seem to continuously make reckless mistakes in my life. Setting the photo frame back onto the table and walking out the house again, I lock the door behind me and walk along the beach around the corner.

The humid breeze tickles my skin as I look out at sea, the familiar scent of the combination of sea and salt reaching my nose and I breathe in, wistfully. I do visit the beach often, but I had returned to this one in particular for a while now, and all the memories I'd built up come flooding back to me - when everything was _perfect_.

Stripping down to my boxers, I dive into the water headfirst. I race against no one in particular towards the island about six hundred metres away. The cold pulls me out of my thoughts and I streamline, swimming against the current as I pull my arms up out of water, one by one and pushing my palms backwards through the water. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I surge forward, mentally urging myself to go faster. A few clumps of seaweed float on the water uselessly and I push them away in an attempt to avoid getting tangled in a mess, kicking harder. I only lift my head above the surface when I'm in dire need of oxygen - the coolness of the water feels infinitely better than the scorching of the sun.

When I reach the island, I turn back. This time, I swim with the current and I find myself back at the shore in what seems to only be a matter of seconds. I don't go home just yet. I sit on the sand and watch as the sun sets, the sky illuminating into warm shades of orange, pink and purple over the horizon. With a sigh, I pull my shirt and shorts back on, and turn back to my old house, wondering if I should sleep there for the night or not.

I don't. I go back home to where Annie is.


	41. Chapter 41

**Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, S and QuinnDeRavensborough for reviewing! :)****  
**

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**XLI. Unleash**

"Did you even sleep at all?"

My fingers continue to tie and untie knots on the flimsy string of rope in my hands, and out of my peripheral vision, I watch as Annie sits down beside me. I've been tying knots for several hours now – it's six in the morning – and I still haven't slept. I _can't _sleep.

I shrug and put the rope down. "No."

"Why not?"

"Didn't feel like it."

Annie shoots me a look, clearly not believing me and drops her head down onto the kitchen bench with a groan. She slouches in her seat, her hair sprawling out everywhere. "It wasn't real," she mumbles, her voice muffled by her arms.

"What are you talking about? Of course, it's real," I reply, playing the act off to the best of my ability. She _can't _know, but it seems like she's already so close to knowing what really occurs in the Capital and what happens to the Victors.

Is there really a point in keeping Annie in the dark, and to not tell her?

When she lifts her head, she stares at me once again, disbelievingly. Her eyes are bloodshot, her cheeks puffy, and her lips pulled down as if disapproving what I'd just said, and I imagine that I don't look much different. "Nice try, Finnick. That's not going to fool me."

Suddenly, it's like alarm bells go off ringing in my head, warning me to not go off-track, or anything that could result in yet another mishap. _Cameras. Audio recorders. _

"Come with me," I say, standing up. "Come on, Annie. Up."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere. I want some air and by the looks of it, you do, too."

Despite her protests, I take her hand and lift her up effortlessly, dragging her out the door within seconds. Annie pulls the hood of her jumper up and keeps her head down, avoiding eye contact with any passerbys, as we make our way to the familiar pathway of rocks at the side of the beach. Even at six in the morning, the District's central region is buzzing with the excitement of a new day.

_Not for us, today, though, _I think. Today's going to be slow and difficult.

I nod at a few familiar faces in courtesy but otherwise, keep to myself and resist the temptation to interlace my fingers with Annie's. Hoisting her up onto the highest rock, I find myself offering her a small smile – it's a reluctant one, but a smile nonetheless. "Lead the way, Cresta."

She skips over rocks and pebbles, gracefully like a fish in water – and, Annie _does _swim gracefully. She pulls the hood back down and the wind sweeps her hair up in what resembles a tornado, whipping back and forth.

I follow her, stepping on the exact rocks she steps on, unlike how I'd clambered over them carelessly for countless times in the past. She makes it look so _easy _and elegant.

"Why'd you bring me here?" she asks, turning around for a brief moment, and that one moment is enough for her to lose her footing.

Reaching out, I manage to grab a hold of her arms and keep her balanced for a few unsteady seconds, before letting her go slowly. "I didn't bring you here," I reply. "I said, _'come with me'_, and you decided to come."

"Because _you _were the one who dragged me out of the house."

Shrugging, I perch down on the slab of stone sticking out from the cave and pat the vacant spot beside me, gesturing for her to sit down. She does and instantly, she says, "It's not real."

"I know."

"It wasn't her handwriting."

"I know."

"She didn't mind her life."

_Didn't_. That word strikes me hard, and the full realization of my sister's recent death finally dawns upon me, rather than just being a settled mishap in the District.

_Didn't_.

She's not here anymore. She's long gone.

"I know."

"She didn't believe in God."

"I know that, too."

"Is there anything you _don't _know?"

"Maybe," I admit, frowning as I stare out at the waves crashing against the rocks ahead of us. "I probably do, you know, _not know _something but as of right now, I'm not aware of anything… Actually, I'm still trying to process everything. But yeah, it was fake."

"They couldn't have done any worse," I mutter under my breath and Annie either chooses to ignore my comment or she really hadn't heard me.

Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks older than just a fifteen – almost sixteen-year-old girl. The losses in her life – her parents, Maya and Rhea – seem to have almost ruined the girl. She overthinks more than a typical teenager should, and has experienced deaths that no one should in their life. Annie's _strong_. She's valiant and brave, but she's held her walls up for so long and it scares me that they'll never be destroyed – that she'll never be able to enjoy the presence of a motherly and fatherly figure. Of course, Mags is a great help but she's not immediate family.

"She told me she was feeling sick in the morning," she says. "And, I thought it was just cramps or _something _usual – maybe a fever, so I left for school… God, why did I _do _that? When I came back home, she was on the kitchen floor and…"

She pauses, and I'm not so sure if I want her to continue. My head pounds – whether I'm imagining it or if I really do have a headache, I'm not sure, but I gesture for Annie to continue. She rubs her nose with the sleeve of her jumper and wipes the tears away from her cheeks.

"There was blood _everywhere_," she says, her voice hoarse and cracking every few syllables. It's heart wrenching. I place a comforting hand – or at least, I _hope _it's comforting – on her back and she leans into my touch. I almost smile – _almost_.

"There was this huge knot on her head, and… and her _arms_; her arms were bleeding everywhere. She had two long, deep cuts down the length of each arm from her shoulders to her wrists, and she was just _dead_."

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if the image of her mutilated best friend would disappear, and pulls on her hair, her fingers curling into a fist. "I-I…" she manages to stutter out.

When Annie finally opens her eyes – her _beautiful,_ green eyes, she furiously wipes the waterworks away and with a shaky voice, says, "I shouldn't have gone to school. I should've stayed at home to take care of her. I shoul-"

"Hey, it's not your fault," I interrupt, and now, I finally understand how I must constantly sound in my mind. "If you were home, the Peacekeepers would've taken you, too and you wouldn't be here right no-"

"_Peacekeepers? _What have they got to do with this?"

_Ah, crap. _

Releasing a sigh, I kick a loose pebble into the water and watch as it sinks. "Look, if you want anyone to blame, blame me. It's not your fault that you weren't home; you didn't know, but _I _should have."

"What are you even talking about, Finnick?"

"I'm talking about how I should've been able to realise how _bad _it was for Marlene to pull a stunt in the arena like that. Those fucking consequences are just ridic-"

"What? What consequences?"

For a moment, I think she's bluffing and I feel like laughing. I'd thought she would've figured it all out by now and when I realise she's telling the truth, I look away. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

I didn't plan on telling her. I really didn't but it was like my mouth was a bomb, which had a timer that had just ended at zero seconds. "Have you ever wondered why Haymitch Abernathy drinks? Why Amphitrite's always cooking when she doesn't need that much food? Why Joseph smokes?"

"Sometimes," she admits. "I'm assuming it's because of the Hunger Games. It's not hard to figure out, especially when I live around Victors."

"Yeah," I reply. "Victors don't truly 'win'. Perhaps, Brutus and Enobaria and all those people do. They're not particularly good-looking but they're strong, violent and aggressive, which are three of the qualities the Capital citizens adore."

"Like Cashmere and Gloss?"

"No. They're like us – Shelley and I, I mean."

"Right."

"As I said, we don't really win. We claim victory in the Hunger Games, yes and we do claim money, prizes and dignity as a result, but we're never really granted freedom."

"You still have nightmares, don't you?" she inquires. "I still here you talk and scream in your sleep." By now, I'd usually be irritated with how often I'm being interrupted but today, I don't have the energy in me to do anything about it. My mind draws a blank and my body goes on autopilot mode.

"Yeah, I do. Everything you see on TV, everything that's been broadcasted? It's all an exaggeration for the Capital to look good and to drown themselves in their pride and possessions. But, Victors – they _never _win. Once your become a Victor, you become a toy to the Capital, and when you displease President Snow, he can't kill you – we could only wish that we could. He makes money out of us, to benefit his country, and when we don't do as he wishes, he takes everything away from us.

"You see me leave for the Capital at least every two months and I'm always on TV, right?" She nods, and I continue. "Because I'm there with Cashmere and sometimes, Gloss and Shelley, and we're sold to men and women, and if we refuse an offer or don't satisfy a customer, we're punished, whether it be killing our family or sending them off into the Games, and we can _never _find a loophole."

"That can't seriously be true," Annie interjects, thought her voice tells me that she's on the verge of tears again – like she's trying too hard not to believe me. "He can't know everything about us. He can't just force you to _do _that."

"First, it was Mum and Dad. Come on, there couldn't have just been a riptide when I was giving my tour. Mum was another setup. Then, there was Eamon who was reaped – and thank the fucking _Lord _that Wesley volunteered because Eamon's one of my closest friends from school. And then, there's Rhea and it can't possibly be just a coincidence that she supposedly committed suicide either. And it was all because of refusing sex and my tribute pulling a bloody stunt, which no one else was smart enough to think of.

"The footage of the Games however, isn't exaggerated. It might seem cool to some people or disgusting, but no matter how disgusted the viewer is, it's nothing like experiencing it, first-hand.

"Those lunatics from Six? They use morphine to numb the pain. Haymitch Abernathy? Well, I don't really know, but most likely, the same reason. Amphitrite cooks excessively because she needs a distraction, so does Shelley with her constant outings with her friends, and Joseph? Same with the morphlings and Abernathy. Cashmere and Gloss – I'm not entirely sure what their deal is but from what I've seen, I'm pretty sure Gloss has the worst mood swings."

"And what about you?" she asks. "What do _you _have?"

I release an angry breath, finally pausing after letting go of all that steam and fury that had built up inside of me like a raging inferno, and it feels _good _to let it all go. It feels great to have told someone about everything, whether it be a confused girl who constantly interrupts me. I feel as if I've just the burden of the Hunger Games and the events following have been lifted off my shoulders, and I can just relax.

"You," I say.

Annie raises her eyebrows at me, clearly taken aback by my blunt response and says, "Me? Why?"

I nod, and the next words I say even take me by surprise. "Because I love you."

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**A/N: Was that a cliffhanger? Sort of? I have no idea. I was actually supposed to upload yesterday, but I was busy reading _Blood Of Olympus, _which I fangirled over so much. I have exams for the next two weeks, so I managed to squeeze in a chapter! I'm not sure when I'll be able to complete the next chapter, but it shouldn't be too long!**


	42. Chapter 42

**Thank you Jamez S, Bigpapi1234, HogwartsDreamer113 and PainAndPanicReportingForDuty for reviewing! :)**

**just a fair warning, this chapter is probs a little awkward and clunky because i suck with romance**

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**XLII. Confessions **

Annie stares at me in shock.

Even _I'm _shocked. That had come out of absolutely nowhere, and now that I finally do say it, I realise how true my statement really is. It's not just a silly high school crush or obsession, or that I find her attractive – even though, I do; I'm utterly _in love _with this girl, and I've never noticed until I accidentally blurt it out.

These feelings - they're foreign. Finnick Odair doesn't fret over a girl, much less a girl two years younger than him - and now, I realise how _weird _I must be. I'll hold any girl's hand if it's an act of comfort. I'll squeeze Marlene's shoulder to make her feel better, I'll hug Cashmere if she ever feels alone, and I'll keep Shelley accompanied if she's ever suffering.

But, not once have I ever yearned to touch another girl or for them to touch me so often. I've known Annie my entire life, and now I simply want _her_. As long as she's here with me, and as long as she's safe, that's fine by me because for however long I work for the Capital, we can never pursue a typical relationship. We can't be like Oliver and Arden, and we can't marry. We can't do anything at home, and this is only assuming that something _does _in fact happen. Everything would have to be a secret and even then, it's not much of a secret because of the goddamned meddling Peacekeepers and President Snow.

When I finally lift my head up, I find Annie staring at me like a deer caught in headlights and her green eyes seem to search my entire face for any clue of lying. I feel like she's a nurse studying my bruises intently. When she realises I'm telling the truth, her cheeks become bright red, but she doesn't look away. She simply _stares _at me and it takes all my willpower to not wince and squirm on the spot.

I've stuffed up. I've screwed up _again_. I've ruined everything.

"Sorry," I apologise. "I'm just really tired. When I don't have much sleep, I say really stupid things."

Annie frowns, like she's almost disappointed with my response. Then, she does something that I'd been too afraid to do. She takes my hand, offering me a smile - the first real smile I've seen on her in a while - and interlaces our fingers. "You mean, you don't love me?"

"Yes." She lifts a dubious eyebrow. "Uh… No. I mean- Never mind."

I've never liked these questions. Yes could mean both answers, and so could no.

I expect Annie to laugh at my confession, or perhaps divert the conversation's subject to something else, or even to run off back to the Victor's Village. Instead, she reaches up and curls her fingers around the nape of my neck, pulling me closer.

It's wrong. We should be grieving over our loss, we should be writing speeches acknowledging Rhea's death and we should be back at home. I shouldn't even be touching another girl just in case Snow finds out. I know just how _wrong_ this is, but that doesn't stop me from leaning in to kiss her, nor does it make me pull away when I'm fully aware of the potential consequences.

The taste of her lips faintly resembles the taste of vanilla ice cream from the Capital, and her feminine but natural scent intoxicates me and I draw her in closer to me while she fists her hand in my hair, pulling lightly. When she pulls back to breathe, she smiles up at me. "Say that again," she murmurs, softly.

Running my hands through her tangled, brown hair, I hesitate a little before saying, "I love you."

"I love you too," she says.

It's silent for a few moments, with the exception of waves crashing onto rocks. I brush a loose strand of her hair away and tuck it behind her left ear. Annie leans into my touch as I hold her cheek and then take her chin in between my thumb and index finger.

I kiss her, again and again and again. It's soft and sweet and everything I'd expect from Annie Cresta. The fact that our legs are dangling off the rocks is pushed out of our minds, and everything and anything right now is just_ us_.

"What are we?" she asks, later.

Closing my eyes, I lay down on the smooth rock surface. I'd hoped she wouldn't question it because I honestly, don't know the answer myself. "What do you want us to be?"

"I asked you first, Finn."

"I asked you second."

"Finnick!"

I open my eyes and laugh quietly. "Sorry," I apologise. "But, really, what do _you _want us to be?"

A rosy shade of pink creeps up her neck and blossoms on her cheeks – it's adorable. "I don't know… maybe something more?" she questions with a small, hopeful grin.

"Then, we'll be something more."

"But…" Annie trails off, pursing her lips and drifting off into her own thoughts. She searches for the correct wording. "I figured that you'd be with the Capital women… and, not just _one _woman."

I nod, without hesitation and without even thinking about denying the statement. "Annie, you know I can't deny that. You've _seen _me on TV whenever I'm gone and everyone knows what I do there."

"Can you quit?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Do you want to die?"

She stares at me, gobsmacked for a second at how blunt and short my responses are. "Wh-what?" she stutters. "What makes you think I want to die?"

"No, no, sorry," I say, shaking my head and taking her smaller hand into mine. I intertwine our fingers, noting how her slimmer fingers fit in the gaps between my own. It's _perfect._ "That came out wrong. I meant, if I don't, you'll be sent in the arena."

"And, you don't think I'll make it out of the arena alive."

It's a statement, not a question.

I shake my head once again, and hold her cheeks in the palm of my hands, staring into her green eyes. "No, honey, I don't think that. I think you _can_ win, but it's too big of a risk. I don't want to lose you, especially after everything.

"Besides," I continue with a crooked grin. "I just got you, and I don't plan on ever letting you go."

She plants a chaste kiss on the palm of my hand and says, "I love you," with a shy smile.

"I love you too."

"But… I don't want to share you."

I feel myself smirking as I reply, "You're pretty selfish, huh?"

Annie rolls my eyes, hitting my shoulder. "You know what I mean, Finnick."

Moving back into a sitting position, I gesture for Annie to take a place in between my legs and she does. I wrap my arms around her waist, brushing her hair to her left shoulder. "When I'm in the Capital, I don't want to be with those women. I do hang out with men and women who I've become frien- uh… _acquaintances _with, and I don't mind their company. Sometimes, I hang around in the Training Centre with Cashmere, Gloss and Shelley, and we train and talk.

"But, the women I take out onto dates every night, the women I sleep with in the Capital – they've got nothing on you. I don't care about them. They use me, and I use them right back; it's business in the Capital, and Snow makes great money out of it. If I don't do say, _I_, myself, won't be punished directly, but the ones I love – Oliver, Arden, Audrye, _you_ – are punished, and I can't let that happen anymore.

"Every time I compliment a woman, every time I kiss them, every time I even _touch _or see them, I'll wish it were you with me because _I love you_. And if you decide to give me a chance, then you'd make me the luckiest man alive."

"I'm already giving you a chance, Finnick," she replies with a sincere smile. Annie turns back to look at me, and her eyes are wide and bright and so _innocent_. The corners of her eyes crinkle, like they usually do when she's smiling. "Thank you… for telling me everything."

"Uh, no problem," I reply with an awkward chuckle. "I'm not really an expert on… _relationships_, so I want to make this right. If I don't tell you anything, then what's the point of pursuing a relationship? I'd just be chasing pavements."

Oliver had once told me, _"Always compliment her. If she's ever mad at you and she's the one who did something wrong instead of you, say sorry anyway. It'd save you from the trouble. And one key thing is that a relationship is built on complete trust and honesty. If you don't tell her anything, you're pretty much doomed for the rest of your life." _

Hopefully, his 'wise words of wisdom' turn out to be true.

"When did _you _become so poetic?" Annie asks jokingly, with narrowed eyes.

"Sweetie, I've _always_ been poetic."

* * *

**A/N: This is my least favourite chapter of the story so far, haha, I'm sorry, I just _really_ suck at romance. I don't even read many romance novels. This is also really short but I feel that this is the best spot to stop the chapter. **

**Also, I just uploaded a Percy Jackson fic! Go ahead and check it out -hint hint- but if you haven't read _The Blood Of Olympus _yet, don't read it :)**


	43. Chapter 43

**Thank you CusCus81, HogwartsDreamer113, Jamez S, S, PanicAndPainReportingForDuty, Ceaser Odallerk and FrostFall37 for reviewing! :)**

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**XLIII. Shattered**

"About time," Oliver greets us when we return home. "I was starting to think you two had gotten lost at sea or something."

"A man from District Four lost at sea?" I reply, rolling my eyes. "That's something that never happens."

He gestures to our linked hands, and unfortunately for me, Annie pulls her hand out of my hold. "It's _also_ about time that you guys got togeth-"

"You sound like a teenage girl," Annie chirps in.

"Because everyone was starting to think that the two of you were becoming blind."

"Blind?" I raise a dubious eyebrow. "Really?"

Olive nods, smirking. "Yeah. The sexual tension between you guys is ju- _oomph!_" Now, _that _was my girlfriend shoving half a muesli bar into his mouth. The sounds of frantic chewing, crunching and teeth grinding quickly follows in suit, as Oliver shoots a joking glare at Annie.

_My girlfriend_, I think to myself and fight a smile that threatens to grace my lips. She's my fucking _girlfriend_.

"Thanks a lot, Cresta. I was pretty hungry," he says with a grin. "Congratulations with Marlene, Odair. How is she?"

He's genuinely worried for our classmate. My eyes narrow at the sight of two intact slips of paper in his hand. Both sheets are white, stained with calligraphy and traditional District Four designs. "I've only spent my time with Annie, talki-"

"_Just _talking?" Oliver interrupts with a suggestive eye wriggle.

"Just talking," Annie insists, raising the other half of the muesli bar as if she's threatening to pound him down with it.

"She's next door," I say. "Go talk to her yourself, whenever you feel like it."

"I'll do that later. Now, I didn't come here just to see you two because I missed you." Of course, he missed us – he just wouldn't admit it. "I have invitations for you guys."

_September third_ was Oliver and Arden's wedding date.

"I thought your parents didn't want you marrying her," Annie says.

That's news to me. "Wait, _what?_"

Oliver laughs, sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with a grimace. "Uh… we haven't told them yet."

The last time Oliver defied his parents, they'd completely flipped out. He'd arrived at school with a bruised cheek. He could barely walk on his own without wincing, his back red and raw from belts whippings. He doesn't just take his punishment - he takes both his younger siblings' punishments too. I have never admitted this out loud, but his parents are crazy. They're too caught up in their own business in the District, and the fame and fortune they have. If I were to be brutally honest, I'd think that the only reason they have kids is to have heirs for their business. I've never told Oliver, Brody or Syndi, though, and I don't plan to either. If the word was spread out, their family's reputation would go down the drain.

I'd found this all out the not-so-pleasant way. I greeted Oliver with a hard slap on the back - it's normal for us - and he'd unleashed a scream so loud and so full of agony that it'd give Annie a run for her money if she were to ever encounter a shark again.

"They love Arden, though."

"That's what we thought but apparently, they didn't think we were that serious. They think Arden's in it for the money because, you know… she's from the poorer part of the District."

"Romeo and Juliet," Annie comments with a small smile, her eyes twinkling.

"Urgh," Oliver groans, melodramatically. "We are nothing like that atrocity of a play. If anything, _you _guys are. Besides, who cares if my parents don't like her anymore? They ca-"

_Smash_.

Through the window, we watch as Marlene slams her door behind her with a furious expression. She sprints off outside the Victor's Village. "Uh… I'll go check on her," I say, kissing Annie's cheek before running after the girl.

"Marlene!"

She doesn't stop, nor does she pay me any attention. The crowd in the centre of District Four seems to notice my frantic movements and desperate measures to reach the girl, and they thankfully form a pathway between them, allowing me to push past.

I'm vaguely aware of Oliver and Annie running behind me, shouting my name as we sprint towards the poorer section of the district. It's a slightly modified version of District Twelve, where it's only slightly better. It stinks of raw fish and garbage, and the people here wear measly scraps of clothing and have dirt splattered all over them. They send us odd looks, wispy strands of her framing their faces like a curtain would to a window.

I spur my legs on faster, each heavy thud of my footsteps pounding onto the dirt gravel and kicking up small pebbles. The distance between Marlene and I has lessened, but not by much, so I force myself to push myself forward faster in an attempt to catch up to her.

"Marlene, what's going on?"

Either, she's blocked everything out and can't hear me, or she chooses to ignore me.

We're closing in on the northern-most border of District Four, where there's nothing but field, trees and land that's forbidden to pass through. Barbed wire surrounds the area and I can see the electricity around it, actively buzzing, as if tempting one to go forth and pass the thin barriers that block us from the outside world.

This place is unfamiliar to me. I'd always grown up in the middle class section of District Four, where we didn't necessarily have everything we wanted, but we had everything we needed. I'd heard things, though, about the poorer citizens and I've always refused to believe how true they were. Only now, I realise that I'd been fooling myself because people really _do _live in such crap conditions – torn down houses, which provide no protection to hurricanes, scraps of food, rags for clothes and scrawny people with bones sticking out.

Marlene and Maxwell had grown up in the section halfway between poor and average. They had enough just to get by, but not enough to stay as healthy as they should've been. At least, this was until Joseph had seen the potential in Marlene when he'd come across her fighting off a bunch of kids from school. He'd taken her in; he'd never trained Marlene but he offered her a spot in the Training Centre for free, which was more often than not, extremely weird and uncommon among the Victors of District Four.

Marlene barges into the house furthest down the pavement, slamming the door wide open. From outside, I can even hear her heavy panting and ragged breathing.

When I finally see her, she clutches onto the ring around her necklace tightly and stares at one spot, shaking her head frantically. "No," she murmurs, softly. "No, no, _no_."

A man, possibly around eighteen or nineteen, with blonde hair hangs from the ceiling with a noose around his neck. Blood foams around his neck and mouth, dripping down onto the ground in occasional droplets and his arms have fallen limp to his sides. The man still sways a little; evidently, the suicide had only _just _happened.

A strangled sob manages to make its way out of Marlene's throat. Tentatively, I take a step forward and watch as she reaches up for the man's face. She cups his cheek, rubbing her thumb across the splash of freckles beside his nose. "_Ethan_," she whispers.

Marlene turns around, as if only just realizing I've been here the entire time, and she furiously wipes at her eyes. Her blue eyes often malicious and threatening are now empty, like a void – like a vacuum has just sucked all the emotions inside of her out.

"Don't bottle it all up, Marlene," I say, as my only words of advice because honestly? There's nothing else to say to her. I can't say _'I'm sorry for your loss'_ or _'I know how you feel_'. As true as those two statements are, there's no valid reason for me to tell Marlene, out of all people, that I'm sorry and that I pity her, because pity and empathy are two things we all hate – _especially_ people like us.

Two pairs of footsteps come to a stop behind us – Annie and Oliver. I catch Oliver's eye, nodding my head back slightly as a subtle gesture for him to take Annie back home. She's already so caught up in this mess, and there's no way I'm letting anything else get in her life's way again.

They don't do anything. Annie pants slightly from the long run here and the pair of them stare at the lifeless body of the man before us in shock. Deciding to give Marlene a little bit of alone time – but not for too long – I drag Annie and Oliver out of the house. Marlene's cries are heard almost instantly and she screams her lover's name. I've never heard a scream so pained and anguished.

Screams from physical pain have nothing on those that escape from people suffering from emotional and mental pain.

"Get the medics here," I tell both of them. "One gurney."

"Marlene's going to lose it, isn't she?" Annie responds with a contrite smile. "I've seen them around quite a bit…"

"Come on, Annie," Oliver says, pulling her by the arm. "You're coming with me."

"Bu-"

"No. Finnick can deal with Marlene. He's her mentor."

Annie frowns and purses her lips, clearly unhappy with the situation at hand. She's always had a queasy stomach – I _know _that, and one glimpse of a dead body is more than enough for her.

I take her hand and brush a few loose strands of her brown hair behind her hair. Kissing her forehead, I say, "I love you."

"I love you too," she says with a smile. Oliver pulls a ridiculously disgusted face over her shoulder – he's joking, I hope. "But I want to stay here."

"No," I reply with a shake of my head. "Go with Oliver, and then, I want you to bring Mags, Joseph and Audrye to her house."

"Shouldn't she be taken to the hospital, too?"

"Marlene? No, she's fine. She spent over two weeks in the hospital recently; she wouldn't want to go again."

A loud smash interrupts us, and the sounds of clattering and shards breaking seem to echo around the area. "Come on," Oliver says, tugging on Annie's arm and dragging her away.

Entering the house once again, I find Marlene curled up in the corner with her head between her knees. Her right hand clutches a dagger tightly and she carves meaningless lines into the floor, her knuckles white from the tight grip. Her other hand remains tight around her necklace.

"It hurts, Finnick," she whimpers.

"Where?"

"_Everywhere_. I can't feel anything."

_Panic attack_, my mind tells me almost automatically. Swearing mentally, I struggle to remember how everyone else had dealt with my issues in the past.

Marlene's skin is cold. Her shaking seems almost uncontrollable, as does her hyperventilating and as I reach out for her, I realise how tense her muscles have become. "Calm down," I tell her, helping her stretch her legs out. She digs the dagger into the floorboards deeper, causing them to creak.

"Marlene, I need you to calm down," I say, thinking back to when Audrye had decided to give me those 'life-lessons' in the hospital – turns out, they really do help. "Count down from one hundred slowly."

She shakes her head, clawing at her hair and struggling to unclench her fists. When she looks back up, she stares right at the deceased body. Her eyes are blank and empty, and _haunted_, as if the scene before her is worse than the girl she'd messed with during the Games. Cold sweat drips down her forehead and her usually tanned skin is pale – too pale. Her sobs have become silent and she trembles, hysterically, never tearing her empty eyes away from the man hanging from the ceiling with a noose around his neck.

Marlene's soul didn't break during the Hunger Games.

Unlike others, her soul was almost intact for the duration. She broke after the Games, when everything caught up to her.

Her soul was shattered.

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**A/N: Sorry this is a bit more than a few days for a usual update, but I have a fractured wrist right now so it's a bit hard to type with one hand, haha. Sorry if there are more typos than usual! **


	44. Chapter 44

**I love you guys. You know that. I love everyone who reads this and everyone who follows, favourites and reviews because you make my day. I usually update right before I go to bed and to wake up with email notifications of Fanfiction reviews is amazing – even those reviews that are negative; I always appreciate some criticism. **

**I usually update 1-2 times a week, so I'm extremely sorry for the lateness of this chapter! It turns out that the fractured wrist I mentioned last chapter, is actually broken. It's a bit weird to type things up and I've always been through physiotherapy for a few other injuries so please bear with me! I do try and satisfy everyone :)****  
**

**Thank you Jamez S, HogwartsDeramer113, FrostFall37, QuinnDeRavensborough, Ceaser Odellerk and Zoey101 for reviewing! **

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**XLIV. Thirteen **

"Come with me."

"Um, dude," I respond, shooting Gloss an amused glance. "I know I'm handsome and everything but I don't swing that way. Sorry, mate."

That was supposed to be a joke.

But, he doesn't seem to find it any bit amusing. He gives me a flat stare, and continues to walk down the pavement of the main street that the Justice Building's on. "Cashmere's got Marlene and Krystal, and they should already be there."

The weather in the Capital is perfect. It's sunny with an impossibly blue sky and perfectly shaped clouds, and the occasional breeze whips by, refreshening us all. Autumn leaves are drizzled all over the streets – though, I don't understand why, considering it's the middle of summer. The people on the streets are courteous towards Gloss and myself, and shoot us genuine smiles and gestures. For once, the Capital seems perfect in my eyes and I don't mind the monsters that hide beneath the invisible veil of evil.

It's been six months now. We've just completed Marlene's victory tour, and it's our second day in the Capital – two out of seven days have gone by without much trouble and disturbance. One more death has occurred – it was one of our classmates, whom I was never particularly close to, but it had affected Marlene.

Then, her walls built up. She slowly separated herself from the victors' family, and on some nights, she wouldn't come home. No one blames her. She finds her own recluse to escape into a world of her own. We know not to bother her, but Mags, Annie, Joseph and I make sure to keep ourselves updated. We're the only ones she'll talk to these days back home.

She's changed plenty, but there's still that spark inside of her. Her victory speech for District Two mostly consisted of, "You know what? I'm _not _sorry for that bitch's death. During training, all she did was show off – and okay, yeah, all my allies did – but she shoved every single one of us around and she never spoke one good word about anyone. And, despite how rude and inconsiderate and heartless I may be at times, I _will _put in a good word or two for someone. But, yeah, the guy from this District – he was pretty cool… sometimes."

Worst victory speech ever.

Oliver and Arden had decided to push their wedding back by a few months. Two days after Marlene and I are to return back to District Four, the wedding would be on. The weather back home has been extremely sporadic for the past few months and it's been getting on Arden's nerves. Somehow, she's gotten the fact that the weather is a potential sign that they aren't supposed to wed. Everyone else begs to differ.

For the past few months, Annie, Marlene and I have tried to patch things back up together. We haven't gone very far, but we've at least, made a little progress. We're three of District Four's youngest recluses now. The three of us have lost our families at such a young age and our form of therapy is each other. I have Oliver, Arden and my friends, and Annie has Ayden, but no one understands our situation as much as ourselves.

Even some of the other victors still have a few members of their family intact and happy.

No one understands Marlene's pain as much as I do, and vice versa. We've taken several trips to the Capital now, to fulfill our services and each time, I grow to become more and more reluctant to leave Annie behind without the two of us.

"Good afternoon, Mr Odair and Mr Delgado," a voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I drag my eyes away from the pavement. "How are you?"

"Fine," we chorus.

I find myself staring at a vaguely familiar woman before us and Gloss seems to only just notice her as well.

"Lyddia," he greets the red lady – the lady whose hair I'd always compared to red velvet cupcakes. "It's nice to see you again."

She pulls her thin lips into a wide smile, glancing between the two of us. "You too. Where would you like to go?"

Oh. _Right_. We are in the lobby of the Capital's most prestigious apartment.

Gloss produces a white slip of paper from his back pocket, handing it to her. "Sisyphus Heavensbee. It's on the penthouse."

"Oh! Of course," she exclaims. "Your sister and her lovely friends are already there."

Lyddia swipes a keycard across the detector in the elevator. The ride up seems to take a while as we're forced to stop at almost every level and wait for everyone to come in and out.

Unlike the other storeys, the topmost level doesn't have hallways, corridors and multiple doors. It's like a storey in the Training Centre – a whole house to a whole level. An elderly lady with grey hair and warm hazel eyes welcomes us into her home, ushering us into the living room where Cashmere, Krystal and Marlene are seated with a cup of coffee or tea.

"Finally," she says. "What took you so long?"

Shrugging my jacket off my shoulders, I grin at the stranger. "What can I say? The ladies love us."

Sisyphus – I assume that's her name – gestures for us to sit down and places two cups of coffee down for the two of us. "I think I'll go straight to the point here – I've already had this talk with… a few others. What do you five know about District Thirteen?"

"Um…"

"Uh…"

"District Thirteen?"

"What's your point?" Marlene asks, rudely. "There's no District Thirteen."

I nod, agreeing with her and take my place beside Marlene. "Yeah," I say, "The first thing we learn in school is basically that there's no District Thirteen."

Krystal shifts uncomfortably in her seat, clasping her fingers around the cup of coffee. "I didn't go to school until I was twelve."

Sisyphus wags her index finger at Marlene and I. "That's where you're wrong. There _is _a District Thirteen."

"Yeah, probably _destroyed_," Gloss says.

From the drawer of her coffee table, Sisyphus pulls out a large map of Panem. It's divided into fourteen sections – the current districts, the Capital and District Thirteen. "_This_," she says, pointing towards an area that's farther than District Twelve, "is District Thirteen. Believe it or not, there are people still residing there."

Marlene and I exchange unsure glances. There's no District Thirteen – that's what we were reminded almost every history lesson. It does make sense though; if District Thirteen does in fact exist, Snow would never allow for anyone in Panem to have this knowledge.

"The reason why District Thirteen is no longer on the radar is because it was, in fact, destroyed by bombs. However, the remaining population took refuge underground and that's where they've been staying. For a few years now, I've been… collaborating with a few of my acquaintances from District Thirteen."

"Collaborating," Cashmere repeats with a raised eyebrow. "What are you going to do? Lead a rebellion?" A joking smile tugs at her lips and she laughs, but she falters when Sisyphus' expression remains indifferent.

"Wait, you're kidding, right?" Cashmere says, again. "Remember the last rebellion? The Hunger Games were created."

"Exactly. And, I believe that with the Victors," she gestures towards us. "You five and a few others, could pull this off."

"What's in it for us?" Marlene questions.

"Freedom. You can't tell me you don't want that."

I really _do _want that.

"Haymitch Abernathy has suggested you five," she continues and I raise my head up in shock. _Haymitch? _"He thinks you'd be great additions to the rebellion – young, strong and fearless. At least, give this a shot. If it doesn't work out for you, I won't stop you from dropping out. I just assumed you five, the latest victims, would jump at a chance like this – and victors after this. Snow's planning on turning everyone into a prostitute. However, this might take years, maybe even decades."

"I'm in," Gloss says. "But that doesn't mean I'll do anything and everything for you. I'll do whatever I want."

_And, there's the District One attitude. _

Krystal and Cashmere are quick to agree. "If I drop out, I swear I won't tell anyone else."

Marlene shakes her head, "District Thirteen is _dead_. It shouldn't still be running." I'm tempted to agree but then, I think of the good that could come out of this potential rebellion. It isn't just us; the generations after us could be saved. They wouldn't have to live in constant fear and hunger anymore.

"I guess I'm in," I say, slowly. "I mean, I don't really feel like it could work but… I'll give it a shot."

We all turn to Marlene, and I'm half expecting a negative answer. Instead, she nods and crosses her arms. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Why not?"

Sisyphus' lips pull up into a warm smile and she looks down at us as if we're her children. "Good, good. I may be a Capital lady but that doesn't mean I approve of everything that occurs. I also assume you're wondering who else is in this?"

She doesn't wait for a response.

"Haymitch, Beetee and Wiress from District Three, Shelley, Mags, Amphitrite, Joseph-"

"I thought District Four was a Career's District," Krystal cuts in.

"We are," I respond. "Not all Careers are like typical Careers like these two." I hook my thumb over to the twins, who scowl in return.

"District Six… though, I'm not entirely sure if they should be trusted," Sisyphus says with a purse of her lips. Right; they're morphlings. "I might ask Blight from Seven. Cecelia and Seeder are in, as well."

"So, the nice victors are all part of it," Cashmere says.

"Oh, and Lyme."

"Lyme…" Gloss trails off with a confused expression. "_Lyme_?"

"Yes, Lyme."

"Isn't she, like… District Two?"

"She's trustworthy, trust me," Sisyphus replies, smoothly – she must have prepared her speech for us. "In fact, she's the one who peaked my interest in a new rebellion."

"That's a bit weird."

"Our meeting's over, I guess. When I get updates on the rebellion, I'll call for you again or perhaps, I'll have Haymitch tell you. Also, don't misjudge him," she says. "Just because he's drunk ninety-five percent of the time doesn't mean he's an idiot. He's probably smarter than all of you combined. Now, shoo. My son's coming over and he doesn't need to see you here."

"Well, that was rude," Cashmere says when we make our way back to the Training Building.

"Keep it quiet," Gloss scolds. "If anyone hears us, we're screwed and she'll become an Avox – not that I really care but I think I've done enough shit recently."

"I'm going to go train," Marlene says, heading off and ignoring us.

I'm about to join her but I'm beaten by Gloss who says, "Hey, I'll come with."

"No," she replies in a firm tone. "I want to be alone."

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**A/N: Very very boring chapter, I know. Next chapter will be full of drama though :) **


	45. Chapter 45

**Thank you Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113 and Ceaser Odellerk for reviewing! :) **

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**XLV. Vanessa Juliette Berranta-Delgado **

"Do you really think this… _rebellion _thing is going to work?"

Glancing around the pub, I absentmindedly tap the table with my fingers and exhale loudly. "No," I admit. "I mean, I don't know. I think even thinking of a plan to rebel is stupid."

"Yeah, I kind of just want to see how this unfolds," Marlene agrees.

"So, what do you plan on doing for the rest of the week?"

"I can tell you what I _don't _want to be doing."

"And what's that?"

"Fucking immature men who think that paying thousands of dollars for the pleasure of a woman will make me like them," she says angrily, slamming her glass of alcohol down onto the table, silently demanding for another shot. "I'm so done with this shit; I have no clue how you've even done this for two years. I swear, I'm going to be sick the next time a man touches me with his filthy paws."

"I just want to drown in my sorrows and regrets for the rest of my life," she continues, slumping in her seat. "Preferably with some alcohol."

The shoulder part of Marlene's left sleeve slides down a little, revealing a nasty yellow bruise. Narrowing my eyes at the sight, I reach over to examine it. "Hey, what happened here?"

Marlene chews on her bottom lip – a sign that shows her nervousness – and shoots me an annoyed glance. "I bumped into the door on my way out last night."

"You're the _least _clumsy person ever."

"Buzz off, would you?"

Reaching over to touch her cheek, she flinches and almost falls off the seat. Marlene swats my hand away with a scowl. "I said, buzz off," she repeats.

As I rub my fingers together, I instantly recognize the familiar feel of makeup and it isn't just one or two layers. I've been through this too many times to not understand the situation. I stand up abruptly ignoring the screeching of the chair against the ground and say, "You're coming with me."

Attempting to yank her arm out of my grasp, she replies, "No, I'm not. You can't tell me what to do."

Ignoring her screams of protest, I grab a hold of her waist and hoist her up over my shoulder. "You can't hide anything from Finnick Odair," I taunt her with a teasing grin as I click _4_ in the elevator.

"No one wants to see your butt, Odair-"

"Really? Women always _pay _to do-"

"-and like I said, I just want to drink. I don't need you bossing me around. In fact, I'm older than you, so I should be bossing _you _around."

"Make up off," I demand, dropping her onto the couch.

Marlene glares at me. "Who are you? My mum?"

"No, but I am your mentor. Look, I know who did this to you. You don't need to cover anything up. This happens to Cashmere every single time."

With an angry, immature puff of air, she flips her hair over her shoulder. Just as I'm about to shove her into her room, an Avox knocks on the door, the sound like a peep from a cat. She keeps her head down, avoiding our gazes and hands me a slip of paper.

Scowling, I grab onto Marlene's arm. "Looks like we're heading out to Gloss' place. Don't even think for a second that I'm letting this go."

For the entire taxi ride to Gloss' apartment, Marlene clenches and unclenches her fist, wriggling her fingers around with a frown. Then, she holds onto her wrist and moves her hand around as if it pains her to do so. With every rotation, I can hear a painful crack.

"Stop that."

"No."

"It'll get worse."

"Shut up."

Rather than knocking the standard three times, Marlene bangs on the door, pounding her fist against the wood, when we arrive. "Open up, Delgado," she yells, when he doesn't answer for about ten seconds.

"Shut up, would you?" he responds when he opens the door, allowing us in.

"What happened to _you_?" Marlene asks with a raised eyebrow, giving him more than just a quick once-over. He's only wearing a pair of trousers. His eyes are red and puffy, and his hair messy like he'd just rolled out of bed. Not to mention, his voice is hoarse as well.

Oh my god," she continues. "Is that your kid? She's so cute!"

On the other side of the room is Cashmere, looking about just as bad a Gloss, cradling a baby in her arms and bouncing up and down gently. Cashmere offers us a tight smile in response.

Either Marlene's choosing to ignore the fact that the twins are unusually down in the dumps or she's just rather oblivious. The former seems more likely, since her new, chirpy attitude is a little too abnormal for her.

Gloss quickly pulls on a tank top before producing a bundle of paper from the shelf behind him. "I need your help," he says, ignoring Marlene's remarks.

Spreading each sheet of paper out onto the table before us, we all take a seat aside from Cashmere. "Cornelius Sinello," he starts. "Does that name sound familiar?"

"Familiar?" I repeat. "More like, I hear his name every single day."

He turns his gaze to Marlene, who sits frozen in her seat, her blue eyes glaring harder than ever at the tabletop as if she's attempting to laser burn holes into the timber. Gloss rams his elbow into her side and she takes in a sharp intake of breath.

"Do you know a Cornelius Sinello, Marlene?"

"Um…" she hesitates. "No."

Looking skeptically at her, I raise an eyebrow. She ignores me, digging her nails into the tabletop. The natural flush in her cheeks seems to slowly dissipate she seems almost as blue as her eyes. Stubbornly, Marlene shakes her head.

Gloss stares at her, disbelievingly and presses on, "Are you sure?"

He lifts a hand up to grab a pen, I assume and as he does so, Marlene flinches back with an uncharacteristic whimper. "Don't," she murmurs. "Don't touch me."

Cashmere, Gloss and I stare at her with a combination of blank and concerned expressions. Gloss awkwardly clears his throat. "Go sit on the balcony," he says softly. "Cashmere, go with her and get her something to drink."

The girls leave, and Gloss leans back with an aggravated sigh, shoving the slips of paper towards me. "Cornelius Sinello," he says. "Guilty of rape, physical abuse, identity fraud, and murder. Sexual harassment victims include Shelley, the first prostitute Snow decided to use, Enobaria, Cashmere, Krystal, you, me, and Marlene."

"You?" I echo in confusion. "Me?"

"Oh." His cheeks seem to flush in embarrassment. "Forget I said anything then. That's five female victors, and he's the most regular and dedicated customer for all of them… Though, I suppose Enobaria doesn't really count anymore."

"How'd you know about Marlene?"

"You didn't?"

"But, you just asked her like you didn't know."

He shrugs. "I wanted her to admit it," he says, glancing around as if paranoid. "I _know_ for a fact that she knows him, and has connections to him. Like you and Cashmere, Marlene and I come to the Capital at the same time, and about three nights a week, she'll come over past midnight and sleep on the couch.

"She doesn't even talk to me. She just crashes here and I find her drunk and battered. Who else could it be?"

Gloss clenches his fist and sets his jaw. "I'm done with his crap," he says. "I can't even hear his name without wanting to slit his throat with a butter knife. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands gather some information on him. Apparently, he's not so popular here either. People just like to pretend to like him in order to please Coriolanus."

_Coriolanus_.

He says that like they're friends – or mutual acquaintances, at the very least.

As I flip through the pages of accusations that have been spoken from many people – mostly women – it takes a while for me to actually process every single little bit of information before me, as well as everything Gloss says.

_'Cornelius Parker Sinello, _it reads. _Guilty of rape (both males and females), physical abuse, theft, identity fraud, unauthorized murder, and the rigging of the Hunger Games.'_

An image of the red lady – District One's escort – is shown. Her abnormally white body is stained with a shade of red just about as ruddy as her hair, on her wrists, waist and thighs. Her expression is void of any emotion.

_'Lyddia Sinello, sister of Cornelius, has reported her own brother for sexual and physical assault – can be proven by pictures.'_

Refusing to read the rest of that extremely long paragraph – there are too many words for my taste, anyway –, I flip over to the next page.

_'… has taken the identities of Finnick Odair, Gloss Delgado, Bryce Hannelius, Wesley Lancaster and several other men for his insatiable desire for women.' _

Absolutely revolting.

"Insatiable?" I ask. "Really?"

"That's seriously all you got out of that?"

"I just really don't even want to think about the rest of this," I respond. The urge of storming to Snow's office and reporting Sinello seems pretty enticing to me. "How do you know this?"

"I don't," he admits. "I have a few… _connections _who are willing to help me and are equally unsatisfactory with Coriolanus' most respected and trusted acquaintance.

"But, uh, I actually found out about the rigging myself. I was over at his place a few years back – it was the year you won – and he was messing around with some things. The girl from my district… Indiana, right?"

The name sends chills down my spine. I'd forgotten about her for a while now. Most of my nightmares consisted of family who'd died indirectly by my hands, and Maxwell's death.

_Indiana_… the names start flowing back into my mind.

Indiana, Carter, Rhea, brown eyes, Maya, Alora… _fuck_.

"Yeah," I reply. "That's right."

"She wasn't supposed to volunteer. He had it all set out. Cornelius was planning on sending my cousin into the arena that year but Indiana volunteered. She'd been told not to but… I don't really know what happened. He sent Cash in, too."

"Why were you even at his house?"

"Did you not read the damn paper?" he snaps at me.

Holding my hands up momentarily, I nod for him to continue on and I flip through the pages – it could become a published book.

"You've got a friend, Arden? And, Oliver?"

"Yes."

"They were supposed to go in the arena this year."

When I look up, I expect a teasing glint in his eyes or a smirk. Laughing nervously, a smile tugs at my lips as I shake my head. "Nice joke, Delgado."

"I'm not kidding." He glares at me, like he's challenging me to disagree.

Something definitely crawled up his arse this morning, and still hasn't come out.

"Marlene volunteered and he didn't get to the male reaping bowl in time, so consider yourself fucking lucky, Odair. It was written in his documents when I sneaked over a few days ago. And, it's not because you defied him in any way. Heck, you've only talked to him once, let alone have sex with him. He does it out of pure enjoyment and self-satisfaction. He killed your whole _family_."

Blunt and straightforward, just like he always is.

No wonder Gloss and Marlene don't get along well with each other most of the time.

His chair screeches against the floorboards when he stands up abruptly, shuffling the sheets of paper back together. "I'm heading off to Coriolanus' place. I'd love to show him how to execute one of the methods to snap someone's neck within a second."

"What crawled up his arse and died?" Marlene demands as soon as he's out of sight, with a scowl.

Cashmere releases an exhausted sigh and collapses onto the couch, running a hand over her face. I'm assuming the baby's in another room asleep. Cashmere reaches for the TV remote and clicks the power button, flicking through the channels until it displays District One.

"They dumped Lynne here on the doorstep earlier this morning," she says.

_Lynne_: _beautiful waterfall. _

The screen immediately displays a chaotic event in the Delgado's home district. A familiar man – a burly man in a professional suit and his hair slicked back – holds a beautiful woman's arm in his grip. She screams in protest, thrusting her palms and elbows everywhere but she's got nothing on the two Peacekeepers and the man.

The man is Cornelius Sinello. His blue eyes are the same – conniving and the epitome of evil.

Cashmere clenches her jaw and Marlene looks away from the screen, picking at her nails casually.

The woman looks to be around the twins' age. Her light brown hair whips back and forth due to the wind, and her hazel eyes glance around frantically as she stares around her in panic and despair. "Let go of me," she demands.

A few photographic shots are taken. Then, the video cuts off and plays at a different time. She's stripped of her clothes and she's on her knees with her back hunched over. Four whips land on back with a sharp noise and she releases a scream so loud and piercing that even Marlene cringes.

"This is disgusting," she mumbles and brings a cushion up to her chest, wrapping her arms around it.

The torture doesn't stop there. They continue to hack their whips onto her body, leaving nasty red cuts of open flesh behind. Blood drips onto the ground from her arms, legs and torso, and it's a miracle she's still conscious.

"Gloss missed out on one meeting with a woman," Cashmere says to us, her voice void of emotion, like the energy's been sucked out of her.

The men pull at her hair and ignore her protests, demanding for Gloss and Lynne and Cashmere. "Don't do this, _please_."

She's no longer beautiful. Instead, her cheeks are puffy, her eyes are red with tears and she's trembling in fright. "Stop," she manages to croak out.

It's relentless – the whippings, the torturous words and the jeering crowd. Finally, the biggest Peacekeepers firmly grabs onto her hair and snaps her head back. She falls onto the ground, lifeless.

Cornelius stands behind them with the cruelest smirk.

"He killed her," Cashmere says, her eyes never leaving the screen. "He murdered Gloss' wife."


	46. Chapter 46

**And a million years later... she updates! I'm not going to bother with a huge arse explanation but my excuses are school and really bad writer's block. **

**Thank you Jamez S, S, HogwartsDreamer113, BigPapi1234, Ceaser Odellerk and l3Finnick for reviewing! **

* * *

**XLVI. Wedding Bells **

It's been five days of non-stop business for Marlene and I, as we celebrate her six-month overdue victory and attend to our services. We haven't slept properly for three days - perhaps, only an hour a day - and the ride back to District Four is frantic. Our stay in the Capital has been too long and the moment we step off the train at home, Marlene and I are going to have to run for Oliver and Arden's wedding.

At times like these, when I'm rushed, I tend to forget things. My brain will run through the list of things I need but I remember them one by one. For the past few hours, I've been running in and out of my bedroom compartment of the train, flipping through my closet and the cupboards.

We were supposed to be home yesterday.

Arden's going to _murder _me after their wedding.

Marlene hogs the full-length mirror, applying make-up with unnecessarily extra caution. I suppose it is needed though, due to the nasty bruise on her cheek she'd accidentally received from Gloss' fist during training. They say it was to burn off all the steam that Gloss had bottled up inside of him.

After watching the gruesome death of his wife - or, ex-wife - Cashmere had explained to the two of us that the pair had been close to splitting up. Vanessa had apparently, gotten sick of Gloss' constant trips to the Capital, and had gone off with other males in District One. I thought it was pretty low, especially after having a daughter together. The spark they'd originally had is gone now. Her death had been the last straw for Gloss and he'd snapped.

Gloss stayed true to his word. After paying Snow a visit, he'd quite literally stormed over to Cornelius Sinello's mansion and snapped his neck. It's been on the news for the past few days, and Snow hasn't said anything about it - it's likely that he didn't punish Gloss due to the fact that most of the citizens in the Capital were in fact, quite elated with Sinello's death. Unfortunately for Gloss, he'd gained a larger fandom if that was even possible.

After that, our customers have been relentless. Hence, our lack of sleep for the past few days.

Marlene dedicates the most time to her eyes, attempting to hide the bags beneath them, which have appeared from exhaustion. I look similar except I have dark rings around my eyes rather than bags. When Marlene spots me walking into the main living compartment, she scowls and raises her arm. She dabs a soft material - a bit like a sponge, but not quite - around my eyes. "You look absolutely horrible."

"Get that crap off me," I demand, swatting her hand away instantly. "I don't even care anymore."

Then, a sudden thought comes into mind. "Oh, _fuck," _I say. "I don't have a stupid tie."

"Then, don't wear one," Marlene replies. "You don't want to look better than Oliver on his big day."

He'd probably end up dripping with bucket loads of sweat.

For the years I've known him, it's not hard to notice just how anxious he gets under stress. In speeches at school, his face would grow a beetroot red and sweat would drip down his forehead.

At least, this time it would be for a good cause.

Seconds turn into minutes, and those minutes are way too long for my liking. For forty-five minutes, Marlene and I aimlessly flick through the channels and programs on national TV, and the only news being broadcasted are Sinello's and Vanessa's death, just like it has been for the past few days. Gloss is the Capital's current object of interest. I would have thought that the Capital would move on with their lives by now and over exaggerate another occurrence in Panem.

"This is ridiculous," Marlene snaps, sneering at the video of Caeser Flickerman interviewing Gloss onscreen with a fixed glare. "You'd think they would have better things to do that wallow and dwell over something that doesn't involve them. They could at _least_, respect his privacy and not force Gloss to attend every single flipping interview."

Shrugging, I silently agree with her. "You get used to it."

As District Four rolls into sight, a grin crosses my face and I'm instantly up, waiting impatiently for the train to finally come to a stop. Marlene, in her dress and sneakers, is already rushing to the door by the time I've gotten up. One hand is wrapped around the handle of the door, and the other around the strap of her suitcase.

"Where's this stupid wedding again?" she asks, ready to make a run for it. The train door opens and we're both off, dragging our cumbersome luggage behind us.

"Uh, the beach by his place."

"Rich bastard," I hear her mumble under her breath, and I resist the urge to reply that she's richer than him now, and has been for several months. Shooting a few grins and waves at a few of the familiar members of District Four, Marlene and I rush past them, desperate to reach the venue within the next ten minutes.

"I feel like I'm in the games again," Marlene muses. Sending her a dirty look, I say nothing in response.

When we arrive, the place is packed - well, as packed as it can get for a family and friends only wedding ceremony. Marlene and I leave our suitcases by the side - if anyone were to steal a Victor's belongings, it would be considered a crime so we decided it'd be safe enough.

Suddenly, I find myself tumbling down with a blur of white. A familiar yelp escapes the girl's mouth and there isn't enough time for me to pull the two of us back again as I find myself landing on a soft body and staring down into those beautiful eyes that make me go crazy. The girl laughs, airily.

The sound is like music to my ears next to the ocean waves pounding down onto the sand further down the beach. Grinning down at Annie, I press my lips against hers for a brief moment. "Hello, sweetheart."

A smile places itself upon her lips and she tilts her head back slightly. "Sorry," she apologises.

Raising an eyebrow at her, I tease, "What? No 'hello, Finnick' or 'I missed you'?"

Before she can reply, a hand latches onto the back of my collar and manages to pull me back up without too much difficulty. "Come on, Odair, Cresta," Marlene says with a scowl. "You don't want everyone knowing about your little affair, do you?" With a roll of my eyes and a grin, I pull Annie up as she makes an attempt to shake the sand out of her hair. We make our way to the seats right at the front.

Oliver stands a few metres away with his hair slicked back and his hands tucked into the pockets of his who-knows-how-expensive blazer. He barely manages to shoot Annie and I a nervous grin. I can only imagine that his heart is pounding much too fast for his liking and that he's overanalysing and stressing over every single minute detail.

It's almost amusing.

When Arden walks down the aisle in a pale green dress with her arm hooked through her father's, it's evident to everyone with a brain that his worries seem to disappear. Oliver grins a million watt smile when his gaze lands on her, and I almost feel _proud. _Despite the fact that I'm younger than them both, I feel as if I'm a father watching them grow up into a mature couple, and moving on towards something beyond their dreams together and towards a bigger and brighter future. It's odd to think that only one or two years ago, Oliver had been pestering me about how '_good' _the Capital women were.

Glancing to the left, I find Oliver's parents scowling at the happy couple, evidently unhappy with the fact that their eldest son had chosen to wed a girl in a lower class than them. Thankfully, they did indeed believe that his happiness was far more important.

Our District's traditional type of wedding takes place and the conductor of the ceremony places a veil of woven grass around them as the couple hold hands and speak their vows.

"You were a jerk," Arden starts off, bluntly, gaining a few laughs in response. The said person only smirks down at her. "I'd known you for a while, I'd seen you around but when we first interacted, you accidentally pushed me against a metal door and refused to apologise until Marlene Summers beat you up for pushing a girl around like trash."

Well, I hadn't heard _that _story yet.

Their vows turn out to be more amusing than serious, both teasing each other. Oliver and Arden have always been a competitive duo, and they liked to compete against each other, though everything would turn out fine in the end. I suppose this time, they're competing to tease and embarrass each other the most on their wedding day.

"I've never seen a couple so happy," Annie murmurs quietly as they kiss to seal their union, and I can only nod in response. It's true.

The next few hours consist of mostly partying, horrible dancing and feasting. When the orchestra of flutes and violins begin the first melodic tune of the night, the groom and the bride are forced to spend a few minutes dancing alone, with the others cheering them on from the sides. Oliver can barely managed ten seconds without trampling all over his wife's feet, emitting several amused laughs from the crowd.

Annie and I spend a while mingling with friends and strangers on the beach, and decide to dance to one song, no matter how pathetic we look. Her cheeks flush a rosy shade of pink when I snake my arms around her waist to pull her closer and brush the lone strand of hair away from her face.

"Do you ever want to get married someday?" she asks.

"Maybe," I reply, automatically thinking about how Gloss' marriage had gone down the drain. "It's a yes and a no for me."

* * *

**A/N: **

**1) WHO'S SEEN MOCKINGJAY, OH MY LORD IT'S SO FABULOUS I CAN'T EVEN**

**but not enough finnick **

**2) Due to very, very bad writer's block, I think I'll just skip to the 69th Hunger Games next chapter, where Marlene mentors for the first time. I hope that's alright!**

**3) This is probably the worst chapter I've ever written in my life, I'm so sorry! I literally spent forty-five minutes staring at my laptop wondering how to word everything. **

**4) I have summer vacation coming in two weeks, so hopefully I'll get to update much more often :) **


	47. Chapter 47

**Thank you Jamez S, HogwartsDreamer113, spectrum700, FrostFall37, Stephanne21, Ceaser Odellerk, QuinnDeRavensborough and TheAmericanHorseBrother for reviewing! :) **

* * *

**XLVII. 69th Games **

I've never been particularly fond of mentoring.

Marlene kind of ruined that for me, but now, as I sit beside her and Venala and in front of the two tributes this year, I'm reminded once again of why I don't like being in this position.

The tributes are infuriatingly annoying. And this year, they're not volunteers. They've both been reaped.

The sixteen-year-old boy, Gordan doesn't seem so bad compared to his female counterpart, who is someone I'm much too familiar with. This fifteen year old girl standing at a height of five foot nothing has an unhealthy obsession with me, and doesn't cease to make attempts on flirting with me. Patty Begula has always been the crazy, overdramatic girl in the Training Center who talks non-stop about any hot guy who even dares to spare one single glance in her direction. She probably still has the time I taught her how to wield a knife imprinted in the back of her mind.

Sensing my discomfort around the girl, Marlene had immediately taken the first opportunity to claim Patty as her tribute despite the fact that neither one of them are particular happy with the decision. But, _I _am completely fine with that.

Gordan grew up in the poorest section of the district. In fact, his family dwells in the house beside Marlene's ex-lover's house, and I assume that's probably the prime reason she had chosen to mentor Patty instead. Even for a kid from this portion of the district, Gordan seems relatively well-fed and while he leans towards the skinny side, he's not ridiculously skinny where almost all his bones stick out prominently.

He's annoying because of his unstoppable volcano-like mouth, which can't seem to stop spewing compliments and "woaaaaahhhh's" each time he sees a new object on the train and as of now, District Four's storey in the Capital's Training Centre. Of course, that's slightly hypocritical of myself to think like this considering the fact that as a fourteen-year-old, I was probably just like that - but just not _that _excited.

In fact, both of our tributes this year haven't stopped gushing compliments about everything and it seems that even Venala is losing her patience with the pair now, as she courteously stuffs a forkful of grilled chicken into her mouth before chewing slowly. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes for a few seconds and before I can even blink once, a knife is flung across the room, narrowly missing Patty's ear by a centimetre and embeds itself into the wall. Venala seems to release a sigh of relief when the two tributes keep their mouth shut for longer than ten seconds for the first time.

Patty's terrified pants of breath seem to reverberate around the walls when Marlene glares at the girl with her blue eyes in utter irritation. "Shut _up,_ would you?" she snarls at the two tributes. "If you don't, then you'll lose your head the minute the cannon goes off, and not just because you'll be too busy sharing _compliments _about how goddamned beautiful the arena is."

Finding the scene unfolding before me amusing, I watch as Marlene switches her gaze from one nervous tribute to the other. "Well?" she snaps. "Are you going stay silent, or eat and tell us what you can do?"

Gordan shifts in his seat uneasily, scraping the peas and mashed potato on his plate to one side, before dragging the prongs of the fork down the flat surface of the piece of china. "Uh, I can tie knots," he says.

Leaning forward, I cross my arms on the table, ignoring Venala's reprimanding comment, "No elbows on the table, Finnick!". Both Marlene and I both scrutinise our tributes - they're both blonde, scrawny and small. They could easily pass as twins, and the chances of either one of them surviving the Games is minimal. I hold back a sigh of frustration and disappointment. "Have you done any training at all?" I question, mostly towards Gordan.

Patty has been a regular at the Training Centre back in District Four, but that doesn't mean she's particularly skilled. Despite the strict regulations we enforce upon those who are registered and permitted to attend training courses, this girl has never excelled in anything and manages to go off-topic with all her juicy gossip of the week and what not. She's known to be one of the more snobby girls who prance around with nothing in particular on their mind and feel the need to make others feel inferior to her.

When Gordan shakes his head, the small sliver of hope I have inside of me decreases further.

* * *

The Opening Ceremony is a majorly unimpressive and is an utter disappointment for District Four. It's not that the costumes look poor because in all actuality, they look astounding. They simply don't match how District Four should normally look and how they're expected to appear in front of all of Panem, especially due to how small the tributes' frames are as compared to those of Districts One and Two.

Even during training, they turn out to be extremely unremarkable with their limbs flopping around flimsily and a very, very limited amount of hand-eye coordination. As Marlene and I watch the other Career mentors study our tributes with judgemental eyes, it barely takes a second for us to realise that we have no hope to collaborate with them this year. Patty makes a pathetic attempt to run a perverted hand down Ezekiel Marx's chest, smiling sultrily as she struggles to lift the axe up with her left hand properly.

"Guess who that reminds me of?" Gloss asks out loud, rhetorically.

"A female version of Odair over here," Brutus guffaws loudly, and I just can't seem to resist rolling my eyes. I hadn't been _that _obnoxious, had I?

After multiple conversations of reminding Gordan and Patty to stay away from the Careers and to associate more with the punier tributes, it seems that only Gordan knows how to listen. Patty drags her hand through her blonde hair, twirling a strand around her index finger and pouts at Ezekiel, Gloss' reaped tribute, who already seems whipped by her actions.

"Tell your pathetic tribute to screw off," Gloss ends up telling Marlene. "She's messing with our tribute's mind."

"There's nothing more pathetic than being fooled by what she's doing, Delgado," she replies, coolly. "So, tell _your _pathetic tribute that he should value his pride a little more if all he's going to do in the arena is to admire my tribute's cleavage."

A chorus of collective stifled chuckles is her main response. As much as Marlene despises the presence of Patty, she would never make herself look bad, even if others are dragged into the situation. Exchanging amused glances with Cashmere, I turn around to find an Avox by my side, his hand outstretched with a white slip of paper. Heaving a sigh, I manage to push myself back up to my feet and make my way to Snow's mansion, as requested.

This time, we don't converse about our usual topic of my clients and how they're doing, and how Marlene's doing. This time, he manages to slither his way around the conversation and question me about my supposedly rumoured relationship with Annie.

"The women here... they aren't happy with this rumour," Snow says. "This relationship will cause certain consequences if this were indeed true. Women will be dissatisfied due to guilt that you're... _cheating _on them with an immature girl. Additionally, your number of customers will decrease significantly, which will have an extremely detrimental effect on the nation especially with the loss of money..."

_The fucking loss of money_.

Drowning out the rest of his speech, I fume silently as I stare across at the wall behind him where a portrait of himself holding a white rose is hung up. It's the ugliest shit I've ever seen in my life - prominent wrinkles, a devious look in his eyes, sinister smile and the light tints of red that undeniably represent blood and death. Fuck, it's _disgusting_.

"With all due respect, sir," I end up interrupting, hopefully in a tone not too harsh, unable to take his monologue in anymore. "There's nothing going on between myself and Annie. She's sixteen, almost seventeen, and I've known her since we were children. I'm supporting her by allowing her a place to live where she can feel safe and secure, rather than allowing her to stay at her old house alone without any company."

When I get back to the Training Centre that night, I hang up on Annie before she can finish her greeting sentence and I make sure to do that for however long I stay in the Capital for.

As predicted by almost the entire of Panem, our district's tributes barely last two days into the Games. Gordan finds his skull being shattered within thirty seconds of the gong ringing and echoing around the desert, and I'm done for the year. Patty manages to survive a little longer, dying of an infected wound the next day, and Marlene and I find ourselves clearing the monitors and tables for our part of the Mentor Room.

It's a huge disappointment this year, and even that would be considered an understatement.

"Well, maybe we'll have better luck next year," she tells me that night.

The stronger tributes in the Games are evidently the Careers minus Cashmere's girl and the boy from Ten who bears a domineering presence around with him. This year, with the new Gamemaker, the Games end fairly quickly, on the fifth day. Approximately half the tributes end up dying of either heat exhaustion, infected wounds or thirst and those who have been smart enough to collect water from the Cornucopia or the tiny river in the centre of the arena manage to last a little longer.

In the end, it's Gloss who manages to bring his tribute back home after supplying endless bottles of water to him and only one at a time, a subtle message to the others that they won't sure what could potentially be his.

Ezekiel Marx, as I interact with for the duration of the Victor's afterparty, could perhaps be struggling already, after being crowned victor despite the fact that his Career group had barely witnessed any action as compared to previous Games. But, there is something fishy about him that both Marlene and I suspect. Whether or not he's pulling an act, we're not so sure.

* * *

**A/N: I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I DESPISE WRITER'S BLOCK RIGHT NOW. My writing is just like 'lol what am i doing with life' and it's just URGH. **

**Next chapter will have major Fannie though (hopefully, I'll be able to pull off that chapter way better than this chapter and the previous ones). **

**Also, I've kind of been working on this side story about Gloss' life. I've decided that I won't make it like a typical story (like this), but instead, it'll be chapters of multiples snippets of his life. The scenes will jump and they won't flow, so they're kind of like a collection of one-shots :) **


	48. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE - **

Holy crap WOW it's been over a year since I've updated. I am so so so _so _sorry for the absence from FanFiction. I have a tonne of horrible excuses that don't make up for ditching this story (and other stories). If I'm being honest, I recall going on vacation for a month and getting caught up in school as soon as I returned home, and I was a bit out of THG phase.

I'm not sure if any of my old fans/followers still exist here but if you are and receive this update (probably nobody haha), thank you so much for sticking by me despite how I let you down.

I am WILLING to continue this story if people review and say they want it continued - if not, then I probably won't finish this off. Just please note a few things:

\- I'm currently in my last year of school - I have HSC, extra-curricular sports, tutoring, etc. so it's going to be a really cramped 8 months after this. If I do continue, my updates will be sporadic - they'll honestly just be whenever I feel like writing or whenever I have time. Any time I have an exam block, I most likely won't update. If I have holidays, I'll most likely update a bit extra to compensate.

\- Please disregard all my author's notes and typos from previous chapters - I can't edit any of them anymore, and I apologise for this because I'm fairly certain I have typos/grammatical errors everywhere.

\- Also, disregard the five-story series I was harping on about haha - I've lost all my old info/plots for them because my laptop crashed a while back. If I'm feeling it in the future, maybe I'll continue on with it! c:

\- I'm not entirely with my characters and my plotline as of right now. This means I'll need to go back and reread the entire story, and possibly come up with a new plot if I don't remember where I was originally hoping to be headed for. It might be a little strange if I start writing too because the characters may seem out of place? I guess?

Once again, I'm really really sorry. I'm a lot more active on Wattpad (where I have 5SOS fics) and Tumblr, so follow me there to bug me about updating here if you want - _sovereigns _on wattpad, and _prvttyreckless_ on tumblr.

**If you don't want _Trident Boy _to end, please review your thoughts and I promise I'll try my as much effort as possible into this story. **


	49. Chapter 48

**Looking back through this story, I realised just how crap my writing was lol, I hope it's improved now. I'm aware this is a really crap chapter (completely forgot why I had a Fannie chapter planned out, so this is a short improv thing) and I'm really sorry for that. It's short and kind of cute (hopefully). Here's your long overdue chapter - enjoy! :)  
**

* * *

**XLVIII.  
**

"It's so nice here," Annie says, with a content sigh and a dazed, faraway look in her eyes as she swings her legs back and forth by the edge of the boat we've taken out. A serene smile tugs gently at her lips as her hair whips gently against her cheeks with the breeze that whips by. "I wish we didn't have to go back and stay out here."

I hum softly in agreement and nod, almost tasting the sea salt of the ocean on my taste buds. As the boat rocks back and forth gently, my thoughts drift back to the conversation in the Capital with Sisyphus Heavensbee. My mind has been almost completely focused on the rebellion for the past few months, and I've been genuinely starting to wonder if another rebellion would turn out successful - and even so, _when? _If it's only false hope, is it really worth it to risk the lives of my loved ones for something that possibly wouldn't even occur in my lifetime?

On the other hand, however, we could be free. _Annie _and I could be free. No more trips to the Capital, no unnecessary surveillance, and no Hunger Games. A world that seems more like a dream than a reality.

"Maybe we could one day," I find myself responding, taking her smaller hand in mine and kissing her knuckles gently. I can recognise the false hope that laces my words, but I can't seem to stop myself from wishing for a better place for the both of us. "One day, we can bring some food and stay out here for a few nights. Just have some privacy for a little while."

_Just you and me_, I add mentally as an afterthought, leaving the silent option of bringing a few friends out in the open.

"You think?" she questions, a small grin tugging at her lips as she turns back to look at me. "Just the two of us?"

After a few seconds, Annie falters briefly and her cheeks blossom into a light shade of pink before she adds, "I mean, we could bring some other people out too if you want."

Letting out a small laugh, I rest my chin on her shoulder and pepper a few kisses on her cheek. "Just the two of us," I repeat, squeezing her waist gently as she grins in response.

Just the two of us, with no distractions.

"You think we could do that tonight?" Annie asks, softly. She turns back to look at me with a hopeful glint in her green eyes and for a moment, I almost give in and say _yes_ until she continues, "Before you need to go back to the Capital."

I close my eyes for a few seconds, the optimistic mood disappearing within an instant as I let out a long breath and shake my head. "We can't do that, Annie," I murmur, apologetically as I remember the call from President Snow I'd received just yesterday. This time, I was to stay at the Capital for an entire month before returning home - my time in the Capital had increased due to higher demands after Gloss was relieved by Snow for a year or two to take care of his infant. "I'm sorry."

She purses her lips and frowns in disappointment as she hears my response. Feeling incredibly guilty, I offer, "When I return, I'll take you out here, I promise." Running my fingers through her knotted hair, I press my lips against the side of her forehead gently and continue, "I'll be back for your birthday, Annie," though I'm not quite sure myself.

"What happens if you ever decline or postpone?" she questions, curiously and I'm aware that she _knows _what happens because I've told her several times now. Ever since the first time I'd declined, it had never happened again - and hopefully, never will.

Postponing a visit, however, I'm not entirely sure what happens. Usually, there isn't a schedule we _must _stick to unless President Snow calls and lately, those have been occurring more and more often. It's out of my control now.

With a grimace, I shake my head and murmur, "You _know _what will happen, Annie. I'm not taking any chances."

"What happens if I get reaped?" Annie ponders out loud as I pull her back against my chest gently, interlacing our fingers. "Would you be my mentor?"

"You won't be reaped," I insist with a shake of my head. I won't _let _her be reaped. As long as I agree to everything Snow demands of me, she will never be in danger, and in the next two reapings, her name will not be pulled out. "Don't worry about it, Annie. It won't be you."

"How are you so sure?" she presses, glancing back at me, green eyes wide with curiosity. "You didn't do anything wrong for Rhea's death, so maybe it isn't just what you do. Maybe you're just a source of entertainment for Snow."

"Annie," I respond forcefully, though my tone wavers slightly as I take what she says into consideration. For years, I've believed I was punished because I'd done actions that had left President Snow unsatisfied, but maybe I _was _just a pawn, just a source of entertainment as Annie had said. If so, even I were to please everyone, no one around me would be safe.

Holding both her cheeks in the palm of my hands, I press my lips against hers, hoping the action would be one to comfort her. However, I feel as if I'm more reassuring myself as she responds. I run my fingers through her incredibly tangled hair and pull her closer, the idea of staying out here for the night seeming more appealing by the second.

When we eventually pull away for air, I can't resist but kiss her again shortly on the lips, over and over again. "Don't even think about it, Annie," I mumble, nudging my nose against hers playfully. "I'll make sure you're never reaped, and if you are..." I trail off, regretting continuing my response. "I'll bring you back home, I promise."

As I reconsider what I've just said, I realise how selfish I sound. Maybe it's better for people to die in the Games than to suffer the ramifications. Their suffering would only be short-term.

_Maybe __she could pretend. _

She could be physically appealing, and if Annie tried hard enough, she could possibly present herself differently.

Pushing the unnecessary thoughts aside, I tuck a few strands of her unruly hair behind her ear, my fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of her cheeks gently. For a few moments, I simply stare down at her finding myself astonished yet again by her natural beauty - large green eyes, a cute button nose with a splash of freckles scattered across her cheeks, and slightly pouty lips that made me want to kiss her more than usual.

I trace the outline of her bottom lip gently with a small grin, pressing my lips against hers briefly. "I love you," I murmur softly, forgetting out any other concerns that had worried me earlier. "I love you so much, Annie Cresta."

Instead of receiving the usual response, _I love you too_, Annie grins cheekily and sticks her tongue out playfully. "How much?" she asks, her fingers finding the gaps between mine and filling them up perfectly.

As she rests her head back against my shoulder, I smile and gaze down at her, wondering how I ever managed to be in this position right now with the one I love. It's almost like a fairytale, I realise as I recognise that this moment is only a short-lived one and soon, we'll need to head back home where reality will hit us once more.

_"More than you'll ever know."_


End file.
